Tale of a Later Action Packed Love Story
by Kebric
Summary: Shepard won the battle, but the war rages on. The Geth remain at large after the battle of the Citadel, and Shepard is called on once again to be the main character who will eventually save the day... maybe. Female Shepard/Liara.
1. Crazy Mad Hatchery

_Author's Note: I finished the story a long time ago, but nearly a year later, I've decided to rewrite this entire story. Peace out, weirdos. (11-14-2010)_

* * *

**Chapter One: Crazy Mad Hatchery **

Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard looked in the mirror, and saw a reflection she didn't recognize — a pale face stared back at her through sleep deprived green eyes. It had been three days, and everything was as if a Jackson Pollock painting had come to life and started dancing around hanging itself on everyone's living room wall. Pieces of Sovereign still smoldered in piles all around the Citadel, rubble still littered the streets, but Jane Shepard could rest easy that at least all of the corpses had been policed. The council had retreated to their chambers like hibernating bears — hardly ever breaking session with exception for a quick meal or nap — and had been in non-stop debate: rebuilding efforts, defense, crime in the absence of nearly half the C-Sec force. The work that needed to be done seemed like a mile-long race to a crippled horse, and it wasn't just restricted to politicians and work crews. Shepard hadn't left the human embassy in three long days, and for the entire time, had her ear permanently attached to the communicator; it seemed everyone had questions, had queries, had requests, had something to say.

Just twenty minutes ago, Shepard had received a call from Earth, and before even a name could be said, a barely audible voice on the other end of the line began to irately speak in vowels. She waited it out, her eyes scanning the front page of a report on leaky plumbing in the Alliance garrison barracks. Before she knew it, the angry voice had subsided and she found herself promising a report in twenty-four hours.

She had gone to the bathroom then, and locked the lock, impulsively running the water and began staring at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe it was vanity, but brushing back a loose strand of red hair she began to reminisce: Eden Prime and the Geth, Saren and the Reapers, the Normandy and the crew, the Citadel and the attack, and then there was Liara. Doctor Liara T'soni, Prothean expert and archaeologist, was that blue alien no one really paid any attention to except when she was doing something weird, like putting her hands on everyone's forehead and talking like she had a British accent, but actually didn't. There had been nothing spectacular about their first meeting like in movies, and in fact their first meeting was a disaster with the Geth attacking her team and a thousand year old ruin being destroyed. Not to mention, they almost _died – _squashed underneath thousands of miles of rock and debris. Still, there was something alluring about Doctor Liara T'soni, even if only Shepard had found out about it after she interrogated her about her traitor mother.

_Well_, Shepard thought back to the quasi-interrogation she had basically put the girl through and thought to herself, _they were friends now and that's all that really matters._ _More than friends, really, if you count one night stands._

She looked down at the running water, and splashed her face. She couldn't get over how terrible she looked, the not-eating-well and psychopathic tired expression. The face that stared back at her did so curiously, like it didn't even know who it was supposed to be either.

She splashed her face again, and dried herself with a towel; wondering how she could have changed so late in her life so fast. She had punched a man with down syndrome in the face, she had had unprofessional flings with consorts, she had strutted around in her N7 armor like a god.

"Commander, are you in there?" She heard a voice from behind the bathroom door ask her.

She turned off the water, "Yes. Who's asking?"

"Corporal Pearl, Commander." The voice replied, "Councilor Anderson wants to meet with you at the Normandy, Commander. He wanted me to tell you it was urgent."

Shepard hung the towel back onto its rack, taking more time than usual in straightening it.

* * *

The Normandy had been docked pending repairs and a bit of downtime for the crew. By downtime, it meant that the crew had about nine hours of work a day straightening the ship out for duty. That still didn't stop them from leaving a bit of dust in their wake, while they made for the closest bars and clubs afterward.

She found the Normandy unlocked, and Joker at his usual spot at the helm.

"Good to see you again, Commander." He said, not looking away from his displays. "Haven't seen you since we docked. What's new?"

"Nothing much." Shepard stood behind him with her arms crossed, looking on at the numbers and programs that seemed to flash across the displays faster than she could register them, "What are you doing?"

"I noticed some drag the last time." He told her, "I'm trying some things."

She made a face, _last time_; Saren and his skeletal form chased her down into a corner of the room. What was left of his face leered at her, and there were lights in his eyes. Somewhere, she could hear an explosion that could have been, in her frightened paranoid state, the Normandy fracturing into a thousand pieces. Her friends, the ones she had left, dead.

"Councilor Anderson is waiting for you in the conference room, Commander." Joker said, and he finally turned to look at her, "He seemed bothered."

Shepard nodded, and Joker looked to the floor before turning back to his work. She left him, her boot heels hitting the steel grated floors smartly, until she reached the conference room door behind the CIC. Her mind was surprisingly blank for someone who had done this hundreds of times before, and had subsequently found herself being sent to hundreds of different worlds on hundreds of different missions. She took in a deep breath, and she opened the door, walking in with as much confidence as she could muster up.

"Councilor." She greeted the man standing in the middle of the room with his hands held behind his back.

"Commander" Anderson replied in his recognizably deep voice, "I would have seen you at the embassy, but I've wanted to check up on the Normandy anyway. How is she?"

"She's alive." Post-action briefs and reports flooded past her train of thought, "Mostly exterior damage. Nothing serious was sustained. According to Adam's, everything should be repaired in two days, at least."

"That's good to hear..." He trailed off.

The councilor was dressed in a heavily starched suit, his complexion still as stern as ever. Shepard stood next to him, and realized he was staring at the blank display as if something was playing. Blurred images of figures ducking, the unmistakable crack of gunfire, the sound of lasers puncturing soft bodies. Eden Prime was his last mission, and it would be a difficult one to forget.

"How are you holding up?" Anderson asked, "I mean, with the office work?"

"Good." She said shortly, "Something's up, isn't it?"

He turned to face her and she could see that he hadn't slept recently either.

"We won this battle, Shepard. Not the war." He said, "The Geth are still out there. They have us on the defensive, and they had us by the throat. We're sitting ducks right now. We're at our very weakest..."

He trailed off, letting Shepard's imagination finish the rest, "If they were smart, they would have left a reserve fleet somewhere close by. If not to attack the Citadel, to attack another target of interest. We're in no position to defend an entire chunk of space."

"You're exactly right, Shepard." Anderson said, pacing the floor now, "And I'm bringing that up to the council this evening. We need a strategy to put the Geth on the defensive, so that they _can't_ go on the offensive."

Shepard nodded slowly, "We're not in the greatest position to do that, Anderson. We lost nearly half of the Alliance fleet, and I'm pretty sure the Asari aren't going to let us _borrow_ the Destiny Acension."

She watched as he collapsed into one of the eight chairs in the room, and saw the man stare glumly down at the floor between his legs. It was an awful sight, but there was nothing Shepard could do. This wasn't one of those situations where you could tell a funny joke and everything would be alright. This was a dumpster sized problem to an ant. These were decisions that had to be made, that would affect people, the people who knew them, and the people that didn't.

"What do you propose?" She asked.

He shrugged, "What do you think?"

"Patrols?" She suggested. "We have enough small ships, fast enough to recon a large area. A fleet's only a mass relay away from any given area."

Anderson looked up at her, a smile on his face, "I knew I came to you for a reason."

"It's still _suicide_, Anderson."

"Staying here and doing nothing is suicide." He said.

"There might be other options." She said seriously.

"Come on, Shepard. You have nearly ten years in. If they haven't come up yet, then they aren't options." Anderson replied steadily.

"We'd be risking the lives of anyone we send."

"We'd be risking the lives of everyone we don't."

Shepard sighed, "Anderson, you realize it's exactly this that got you early retirement?"

"And a seat on the council." He stood up excitedly, "Shepard, I'll need you on this one. The Council is still pretty sour with human involvement, or at least, the Turian's are."

"I do." Shepard replied quietly, _and you know what this means, don't you?_

She had made calls. Twenty-eight of those calls had been to the next of kin of her dead crew. Marie Jenkins, the mother of Corporal Jenkins. Javier Alenko, Staff Lieutenant Alenko's father.

"You know where I'll be, Shepard." Anderson made his way to the door, "I hate to do this to you, but there aren't a lot of other people I would trust with something like this. I'll be in touch."

"Well, it looks like I have work to do." She said, already on her way to her cabin.

* * *

Shepard knew she should be asleep at this hour, but instead she was walking through the Normandy. She had decided to inspect the ship, to ensure that the dock mechanics had kept their promise that repairs would be done in forty-eight hours. Other than some heavy repair machinery still littering the floor, they were good on their word.

"Shepard."

The voice was more of a growl than anything, and turning around she could see Wrex standing there like a statue while his red eyes wandered uncontrollably. That particular trait had always set Shepard's nerves on end.

"Heard you were going on a trip?"

"Yes." Shepard said, "I thought you were leaving?"

Wrex gave the equivalent of a smile, "I was. Thought I'd might as well stick around a bit longer. Maybe you could drop me off on the way."

Shepard could remember when he had no sense of humor to speak of, and she thought with a grin, _look at him now. _

"It'll be good having you aboard." She smiled, "Again."

The Krogan said nothing, just stared expectantly.

"Is there something else you need, Wrex?" She asked, a little bit uncertainly.

"Now that we're hero's and all, I thought I could get access to some military grade equipment." He replied, "If that's alright with you, Shepard?" The way he asked it, it didn't sound like a question at all.

"Give me a list, and you'll get it." She shrugged.

The Krogan stomped of without another word, and Shepard found herself alone once again. One of the panels by the sleeper pods beeped, and she turned around.

_Commander Shepard? _A voice called to her in her head.

It was a voice someone like Shepard had a hard time describing. If she had been the type, she would have described it using excessively romantic nouns like _melodic, _and started calling the speaker a _violin _or a _trumpet_ or something. Shepard had never been a romantic nor the one to describe people as musical instruments, but she couldn't help but feel a knot in her stomach whenever she saw those eyes staring back straight at her, so undisguised and plain. She was light-headed and clumsy, like a kid in front of a class; palms sweaty, legs like rubber, and mouth dry. Love – the ultimate anchor, the ball and chain. Especially for Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard, who was not supposed to have anchors. Someone who was supposed to expect to be sent to the far reaches of space on a moments notice, to stay there with no end in sight, and who was supposed to expect to die. Before, she had no problem with the mobile life required of her. Now it was different. She couldn't say how or why, but all she had to do was think of that girl and her _musical instrument _of a voice.

_Liara? What is it? _She remembered asking her, when they were still friends just every now-and-then flirting with each other.

The doctor had been standing there in front of Shepard, wringing her hands like she always had, agitated and distressed like she always was.

_Commander, I heard about the council's decision to ground the Normandy. _

_Yeah. _She had felt embarrassed. _That really did just happen._

_They are fools. _Liara had said, with that fire in her eyes. _You are the best chance they have._

She smiled despite herself. _Some people don't think so._

Shepard had slumped back against her locker and slide down. She remembered the feeling of hopelessness, and the anger. She had stared at the floor, counting the bolts absently, a bitter taste in her mouth just thinking about the council's decision. Grounded. Deliberation. Waiting for a huge metal claw thing to come out of dark space and snatch the council's deliberating head's off their high and mighty body's.

_I think so._ That gentle voice. That sweet voice.

_Liara... _She had said quietly. _Thank you._

The doctor smiled. Her hand reached out, and Shepard took it. She looked into her eyes as Liara pulled her up off the ground, and time seemed to stand still. The only other time Shepard could remember feeling anything remotely similar to that moment was when she dodged a bullet. A real, actual bullet. Gazing into Liara's blue eyes, she felt alive. It was just a moment, barely a few seconds where Shepard could see a new life, a possibility, something good. She leaned in as Liara closed her eyes, intoxicated, when a voice completely _not_ Liara's might as well have screamed over the intercom.

_Commander, there's an urgent call on the comm link. _

She still hadn't forgiven Joker for that. She stared at the row of lockers, the memory fading as she ticked off the items on her ship's checklist absently. Bridge scanners, bridge lights, corridor lights, corridor vents...she ticked them off wearily, her eyes still on the white and orange lockers. She reached the end of the list and threw the clipboard onto the mess hall table, grabbed a nut bar pressure wrapped in foil, and bit into it. She was halfway through the bar when she realized that she hadn't even so much as seen Doctor Liara T'soni in three days.

* * *

The next morning, she was standing before the Normandy's communicator in full dress blues, a noticeable gold medal and light blue ribbon around her neck. She looked around her at the flickering orange projections of the council standing there in a half-circle, just staring down at her like they were eight-foot marble statues.

"Commander, this is hardly a request," The Turian councilor said, "But I wouldn't feel right not at least asking you to once _again _risk your life on our behalf."

Shepard could tell he was trying to give her a compliment, but it was so offhand it almost didn't even count.

"This needs to be done, councilor." Shepard said, "I understand the risks. I understand the consequences if I don't succeed. I'm ready for this."

"So soon, commander?" The Asari councilor asked, "Are you certain you are up to this task?"

She must have looked worse than she thought. She had laid awake last night again, despite having gone to bed after a four-mile run and some help from the medicine cabinet. She had stared at her bedroom ceiling, listening to the minutes tick by.

"I'm sure." She answered.

The councilors shared a momentary glance and nodded in agreement.

"Commander Shepard, as a member of the Systems Alliance and Spectre, you are hereby assigned this mission: to find the remnants of the Geth fleet and to either secure a surrender or victory. Either way, upon discovery of the Geth you will notify the council and we will send the fleet to assist you."

"Understood, councilor." Commander Shepard said.

"This meeting of the council is adjourned. Good luck, Commander."

The image of the councilor's faded away one after another, until all that was left was Anderson.

"Shepard," Anderson said, "There's a dinner at 1700 tonight. Reservations are at the Criterion Restaurants."

"The Criterion?" She was impressed, "Guest list?"

Anderson chuckled as he told her, and at the expression on her face as it grew darker.

"Just about every other snob on the Citadel then." She observed.

"Exactly." He agreed, "I sent invitations to Chief Ashley, and some of your other friends. You won't be alone, Shepard. Don't worry."

"Oh, I won't." Shepard waved a hand dismissively.

He laughed, the first one she had heard from him in days, "I'll see you then."

"Unfortunately." She smiled.

His image flickered and died, and Shepard loosened the collar of her uniform. She wandered out of the conference room, and towards the airlock doors. She needed some air. She was just passing a few of the stations under repair, their wire guts spilling out into the middle of the aisle, when she spotted Joker. He was making his way slowly towards the rear of the ship, and he eyed the obstacle of wires warily.

"There's a formal dinner tonight," She said as he approached, "Did you get an invite?"

"No, thank God." He edged his way through the tangle carefully as Shepard watched, "I hate those fancy jerk-fests."

Shepard shrugged, "Thought I'd ask. Thought I'd be nice and all."

"Speaking of nice, those mechanics messed with my chair. It took me a good minute just getting comfortable again. I've told them before," He slapped the palm of his hand, "Don't touch!"

"I'll pass on the message, Joker." She walked past him and rolled her eyes. "You're such a princess sometimes."

"Prince, Commander." He corrected her, "_Prince_."

Shepard shook her head and stepped out of the Normandy. The docking platform was empty, but for a the odd mechanic dragging around random pieces of tubing. She stood there for a moment, watching the progress of a particularly hairy mechanic crawling in and out of an engine block, with nothing but a nylon strap connecting him to a d-ring attached to the ship. She wanted to shout from the platform, and ask him how much he was being paid to risk his life, especially with the possibility of such a painful messy death like falling a couple thousand feet. Then, she realized she did mostly the same thing, but much more for much less. It should have been a self-righteous thought, but instead, it made her want to throw herself off the platform for whatever higher power was out there, dangling them all like puppets. _Suicide missions_, she thought cynically, _always the most exciting._

She stepped out of the Normandy to get some air from the politics, the possibility of impending death, and the ugliness of imagining the bullets flying and explosions exploding in all of its glory and gore, but even now with the Citadel's lights flashing at her from every corner in a beautiful display of modern grace and technology, all she wanted to do was get away. The air here was suffocating.

* * *

The Criterion Restaurant had a waiting list that stretched back as far as a year at times. If you were a hero like Commander Shepard, _maybe _you could get in on six months notice. It was _that _type of place.

The lobby was almost utilitarian, with its concrete walls and floors, but it was obvious from where she stood that the lobby was not the main attraction. Artificial lighting gleamed down on diners from a low ceiling made entirely of glass, on the other side of which were galleons of water and hundreds of exotic fish. Tables were arranged among recently groomed rock gardens and shrubbery that smelt of incense. Shepard had never been in the Criterion Restaurant, but upon entering the unwaveringly geometric room, and looking up to see several species of fish staring at her through their buggy eyes, she couldn't help but feel a little impressed – and, unnerved. It was her experience, having spent so long in the military, that the first place she decided to look for Anderson was at the bar. And he stood there, with his elbows leaning back against the bar counter, in his most conservative black suit and red tie.

"Nice suit." Shepard greeted him.

Anderson didn't seem fazed, "I wore this suit to my second wife's funeral."

Shepard ordered a drink, blanching slightly at the poor choice in topic, "Oh. I'm sorry."

Anderson sipped his wine and shrugged, "Don't be. We would have gone down the drain eventually anyway. It was too good to last."

The bartender slid a glass along the counter, pouring a bottle of brandy as he did until it stopped in front of Shepard.

Anderson watched her sip her drink, "Guests should be arriving shortly."

She could only nod for no reason at all. A few Salerian's on a stage in a corner of the restaurant were playing and fiddling on instruments that looked like dental equipment. The music produced, at least to a human ear, was more like elevator music, and Shepard found herself wishing for a radio somewhere to play something remotely entertaining. She downed her drink.

"Take it easy." Anderson grinned, "It won't be _that_ bad."

"That's what they all say." She replied.

Anderson laughed, and stood up to his full height abruptly, and straightening his already straight jacket. He was looking past Shepard at the restaurant lobby and seeing a crowd of noticeably well-dressed individuals, even for a restaurant like this with its zen gardens and fish tank ceilings and all.

"And so, it begins." He spoke dramatically.

She had followed his gaze, more out of habit than actual curiosity. She gently placed the empty glass in her hand back onto the counter.

"Another?" Asked the bartender.

She shook her head, "No, thanks." And trailed behind Anderson to the lobby.

The first were the Turian's. There were three in all; the councilor, his assistant, and Garrus Vakerian. When they approached, the Turian councilor was speaking in hushed tones with his assistant. The assistant was just saying something about how he had "just _told _her to leave it _alone"_, and the councilor was shutting him up with a curt "_sh – humans!", _when Anderson held out his hand, a little less enthusiastically than he would have. Shepard made a bee-line for Garrus Vakerian, standing all to himself in a fairly empty corner of the bare lobby.

"Good to see you again, Shepard." The Turian said warmly.

Shepard shook his outstretched hand, "Always a pleasure, Garrus."

"I heard." He said softly, "Perhaps it would be appropriate for me to wish you good luck?"

"You're not coming along?" She asked.

He shook his head, "C-Sec is short-handed, after the attack and all. I have to stay, and do my part." He looked a little irritated before adding, "Or so I'm told."

"Is there a problem?" She asked, "I'll see what I can do-"

"_That_ won't be necessary," The Turian councilor interrupted, having somehow heard their conversation, "Agent Vakerian is staying at the Citadel where he is needed."

Shepard started to reply, something between a public bathroom and a swamp ready to spill out when she caught Anderson's warning glare, and she said instead, "Understood, councilor."

Without so much as an acknowledgment, the Turian turned heel and stalked away towards the furthest corner away from them, turning to his assistant and pointing a very accusatory finger at his chest.

"That could have gone better." Anderson said, joining Shepard and Garrus in a far corner of the lobby, "This goes without saying, but we all should probably watch our backs."

Garrus grunted, and Shepard tucked her hands behind her back, all too aware of how they were clenching into fists. She had never been interested in politics and didn't very much care for it, but it occurred to her that it wouldn't be so appropriate to start waving her arms everywhere like Popeye the Sailor.

Anderson spied a group of humans making their entrance, made all the more obvious by their paranoid glances and shifty movements. Only a few of their group actually looked comfortable walking into a joint chock full of aliens.

"Fresh off the boat," Anderson observed, and said offhandedly to Shepard, "They're senators from Earth. Arrived just yesterday. I had to give them the grand tour."

"They seem very curious." Garrus remarked, watching one woman in particular and the scowl on her face, "Very interesting..."

"What can I say?" Anderson said, walking away, "We're humans."

Shepard felt like she was losing it. She could only imagine being back in her quarters, maybe taking a nap with the radio on, and her favorite bands playing. She'd fall asleep to _Styx_, _Aerosmith, _or maybe some _Asia._ Truth be told, she hadn't listened to music in months, but it wasn't like she had had the time. Her mind went to strange places when she listened to those old songs, places that required a special sort of quiet. Quiet she wasn't getting with having to save the world from crazy people, and answering the phone all day.

"The Asari." Garrus nudged Shepard in the ribs, "...and the Salerian's."

Even after spending years in space, she still couldn't hold in a chuckle at seeing so many aliens, wearing so many colors and get-ups, and all sauntering in through one tiny space. It was like watching a documentary on animals, although she realized that thought was somewhat politically incorrect.

"There's Matriarch Lidanya." Garrus' mandibles twitched slightly in surprise, "The commander of the Destiny Acension." And added more quietly, "I had heard she was keeping to herself these past few days."

"Why would she do that?" Shepard asked.

Garrus shrugged, "The Asari are a strange breed. They're a race of females, Shepard." He gave her a look, as if to say his last comment was self explanatory.

She only laughed, "You're just over-exaggerating."

Garrus cast another doubtful glance at the group, "Are you so sure?"

Still chortling, she looked in the same direction, and felt the blood drain from her veins. Among all the strange green's, oranges, and purples, there was one color that stood out among the rest. It was just one blue figure in particular dressed in a white gown, her eyes flitting around the room curiously, as she always had done. It was Liara. But standing unnervingly close to her was another blue figure, dressed in an impeccable Asari uniform adorned with many decorations. She had the stoney countenance of someone always in charge, with the arrogance that usually came with it. Garrus had pointed her out to be Matriarch Lidanya, but that couldn't have mattered less to Commander Jane Shepard, when the Matriarch placed a possessive hand on Doctor Liara T'soni's arm.

"Are you alright?" Garrus asked, "You look a little pale."

"It's hot in here." She said, a little too quickly.

Garrus look at her strangely, "It feels like room temperature to me..."

"Ladies and gentlemen," The head waiter announced into the room, "Please, a private room has been reserved for your party. If you will, just follow me." He waved his white-gloved hands like a dancer on stage, illuminating the way as he walked backwards towards a set of doors near the very back of the room.

It was hard not to notice the large line of dignitaries walking through the large restaurant floor, and while they caught many stares, Shepard was hardly focused on it. She should have been watching the many faces and their many expressions, just waiting for one to show just a little too much nervousness, just a little too much resolve. She was an N7 agent and a Spectre, it was her job to be paranoid about these things. And she would have, even if this contingent of powerful politicians had brought their own private security. Tonight, however; her eyes were only on one thing, and she made sure to stay behind Doctor T'soni and Matriarch Lidanya, within eye-sight and earshot. If only Garrus wasn't trying to talk to her, she could have heard them.

"What kind of equipment are you bringing with you?" He asked, oblivious, "I always preferred shooting from a distance. Some would say it was cowardly, but I always think it's a bit more on the brutal side. Hardly cowardly, if you ask me."

She didn't reply, she didn't even hear him. She was too busy watching the Matriarch's hand and how it was gently leading Liara.

"Of course, sniper rifles weren't an option before the introduction of thermal clips." Garrus went on, "I remember getting only a few shots off before my rifle would overheat and I'd have to crouch behind a crate somewhere and wait. It was terrible. Whoever thought of that was out of their mind... overheating weapons. What sense does that make on the battlefield. It's like wearing armor you can't go to the bathroom in."

It was just as the Matriarch's hand lowered from Liara's elbow to her forearm, and ever so slightly moving lower, when a hand roughly jabbed Shepard in the side.

"Hey, sorry!" She recognized the voice as belonging to Chief Ashley Williams, "I know I'm late. Better than never though."

"I agree." Garrus nodded seriously.

"Yeah..." Shepard watched the couple ahead walk into the private room and seat themselves next to each other. Still unnervingly too close, in Shepard's high opinion.

"What's wrong with you?" Ashley Williams asked, looking the Commander up and down, "You look..."

Garrus shook his head, "She says it's _hot_ in here. It's not _hot_ in here."

They entered the room, the last ones in, and the door was shut behind them with a finality that was unnoticed by the others, but certainly felt by Shepard. Suddenly, she felt trapped. Garrus seated himself, followed by Ashley, but the one last empty seat, much to Shepard's horror, was next to Doctor Liara T'soni. She stood there, she supposed, looking like a complete dunce.

"Are you...going to sit, Commander?" Ashley Williams asked a little uncertainly, "There's an empty seat right here." She patted the cushion of the seat right next to her, and so fatefully placed.

Commander Jane Shepard could have thought of an excuse right then and there, where she would have to pull out her communicator, look surprised, and excuse herself hurriedly. She would say there was a fire on the Normandy. She could say there was a anti-war protest gone wrong and the Normandy was being spray-painted with all sorts of craziness. She could have just left, being a hero and all. But she smiled a very fake smile, and she sat down as casually as she could – her back resting against the chair, her legs crossed at the shins, and that smile growing somewhat strained.

"Seriously," Ashley whispered, "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick or something?"

"Just sit there, and talk to me about the weather." The Commander said, growing a little fidgety from the butterflies in her stomach.

"About the weather? There is no weather on the Citadel." Ashley pointed out.

Shepard rolled her eyes, "About _anything _then."

"Well, now that I'm being forced to be sociable," Her sarcasm not lost on the Commander, "Liara told me the funniest thing the other day," Ashley smiled jovially, "Actually, I think she's dating someone, because she asked me-"

The expression on Shepard's face darkened. The politicians around the table could have been discussing galaxy-wide peace, but in Shepard's mind, nothing was going right tonight.

"Hm." Ashley looked thoughtful, "I totally forgot what she asked me, but it was _funny_." And then she added slyly, "But it looks like I was right about one thing, eh? She's dating someone."

The Matriarch and Liara were discussing something that put a smile on both their lips. Commander Jane Shepard, having survived two ginormous experiences that would have killed anyone else, couldn't help but feel the stab of being ignored. Doctor Liara T'soni had not even looked at her since arriving.

"Yeah." She said somewhat longingly.

So longingly that Chief Ashley Williams could not help but notice. Somewhere in that head of hers, something fell into place.

"_OH._" The word escaped before she could stop it, and half the table cast her quizzical glances.

"I know that's what I said. I had the hardest time figuring out how to squeeze the trigger!" Garrus said, having had a conversation for the past several minutes that no one was listening to.

"Hey, Commander." Ashley ignored Garrus, and whispered into Shepard's ear, "What's going on."

There was no missing the Chief's pointed stare at the Doctor of Prothean Archeology. Shepard cleared her throat, drank some water, and glared at her, "_Nothing's _going _on_. Just-"

"Hey, Liara." Ashley spoke past Shepard, smiling widely, "How are you?"

Shepard's locked onto the salad dish in front of her, and she tried to pick apart the loopy emblem so tastefully embellished into the design of the plate. She tried not to notice how Liara's face turned in her direction, and how her voice sounded as it always had. That _trumpet_ – no, that _other more nice sounding instrument that Shepard never played in her life (that looked like a tennis racket)_ of a voice.

"I've been fine." She said warmly, "How are you, Chief Williams?"

"Call me Ashley. Only Commander Shepard here calls me _Chief Williams_!" Ashley guffawed. "Isn't that right, Commander?"

Shepard imagined shaking the shit out of her, then smashing this tastefully designed plate on her head. Then disappearing out of sight to curl up in a dark corner somewhere, where she could feel oh' _so_ sorry for herself.

"That's right." She said stiffly, and forced a smile, "_Ashley_."

Though there must have been more venom in her tone than she thought.

"And how are you, Commander?" Liara asked her. "I hope you've been..."

"I'm fine." She finally forced herself to look at that face. That baby face so full of just all the nicest things.

Liara nodded slowly, "I've heard that you've been terribly busy these past few days."

"So has everyone else." She replied a little more ironically than she meant, looking between the Matriarch and Liara, "Some more busy than others."

"Indeed." Liara said.

"Excuse me," The Matriarch leaned forward into view, "I haven't had the pleasure of introducing myself to the woman who stopped Saren." She bowed slightly, as formally as she could seated at a dinner table, "I am Matriarch Lidanya, commander of the Destiny Acension. I have heard much about you from Doctor T'soni."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." The words felt like a betrayal coming out of her mouth. She should be throwing a punch, but instead these words were pouring out like oil. "I've seen the after-action videos of the battle. Your maneuvers were impressive."

"Truly the highest compliment I could be given, coming from as accomplished a soldier as yourself."

Shepard smiled, this smooth fake version of herself taking complete control, and the words oozed, "From one soldier to another."

After saying that, she felt empty like a lonesome garden gnome left in the shrubs, only to be overgrown with weeds as she was forgotten. A much prettier garden gnome had taken her spot, one floating around in a much bigger ship. She must have been so lost in this thought, that she had forgotten to lie and be charming. Their side of the table became awkwardly quiet, as it usually does when someone in the middle of a conversation suddenly looks down morosely at their cutlery and napkin.

Shepard couldn't bring herself to carry on the act throughout the rest of dinner. She ate her food, she drank her drink, and she sat there like she was supposed to; straight-backed, eyes forward, and saying as little as possible. She had to, otherwise she would have already flipped the table, thrown the knives, chucked the glasses, told the Matriarch what she really thought of her, and left. Watching the two out of the corner of her eyes, she wanted to whisper into Liara's ear, _I lied – she's a terrible tactician. She almost got everyone killed. Take that._

She wanted to be a child again, so she could act like one. Jumping up onto chairs like she was the captain of a pirate ship, riding the wild waves of some ocean somewhere. She would swing from the crow's nest down onto a cannon, light a cigar in her mouth, and use it to fire off a cannon-ball straight into the Destiny Acension.

"You're being really quiet." Ashley mumbled after desert.

Shepard shrugged, "I can't be quiet?" _I should be quiet every now and then, I deserve it. _A very childlike voice said in her head.

"Well," Ashley held up her hands defensively, "I'm just saying, Commander. You haven't really said a word since we got here."

"I don't feel like talking." She said. She felt like drinking. She felt like drowning her sorrows like all those melodramatic characters did in those dramas on TV, where they would drink the night away and cry about it. In the morning, they would get up and the viewer would comment on how stupid they were being.

Anderson stood up, raising a glass of bubbly in his hand. "I would like to toast the heroes unable to join us tonight. They sacrificed more than any of us could have asked of them, and we owe them everything. We are alive today, because they aren't. We are enjoying this fine meal in the company of some very fine friends, because they cannot." He raised his glass high into the air, "To our fallen heroes."

Glasses raised, held for a moment in the air, before dipping down to the mouths of those around the table. Shepard watched them, and her hand, as it moved of its own free will. She couldn't understand why, but she found the speech revolting. None of these people around the table knew Kaiden Alenko, but here they were – congratulating him on being a fine hero. _Thanks, man. Because of you we can drink this bubbly you never could afford! _

When the first guests stood to leave, Commander Jane Shepard was already on her way to the Taxi queue, a bewildered Chief Williams and Garrus Vakerian trailing close behind.

* * *

The taxi stopped outside of a nightclub. Shepard stalked in without so much as noticing the scantily clad Asari dancers flaunting their assets on tables to perverts. And as such, the place was chock full of Alliance military. Shepard knew, if there was a place she could get drunk without getting noticed, it was here at this festering hole of STDs and bodily fluids.

"Why are we here?" Garrus screamed over the obnoxious techno music, "We couldn't go someplace _cleaner_?"

Ashley wondered that herself, but she had a good guess. She was a marine, rated as one of the best non-commissioned officers in her age group, and that required a certain understanding of people in general. She liked to play dumb most of the time, because people don't watch what they say as much around someone they think is an idiot. The Commander had kept to herself like a trained expert, revealing only the most vague details about herself – just enough to get people to think she was being personal, but in actuality, she had chosen those expendable tidbits of her life exactly for one purpose; to seem more approachable, to better accomplish the mission through team unity. She wasn't being honestly friendly, as much as she was just being calculating. Always the tactician, the Commander. The only time she had heard of the Commander having a real conversation, of trying to sincerely open up at all to anyone, was from Liara T'soni.

"Brandy." Ashley heard Shepard order at the bar.

Garrus had positioned himself beside Shepard, his keen eyes searching the place habitually, and scowling at the odd drunken passerby.

"He's obviously on drugs." He pointed after a man barely walking on his own. Ashley only rolled her eyes.

"Something's on your mind, Commander." She said, "Might as well tell me now, before I start guessing."

"And what would your first guess be?" Shepard asked evenly, downing her first drink all at once.

Ashley watched her order another drink, this time a vodka tonic. Keeping others at a distance like she was, it was hard to fault her for it. Losing all your friends in one roll, killing a man who told you, right before he was _this_ close to ruining the galaxy, and right before he died that he was _sorry_, and now – Ashley guessed, it was jealousy.

"Do you ever have trouble sleeping?" Shepard asked out of the blue, "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Is that it?" Garrus asked.

"I hope so." Shepard said, knocking back another drink and ordering a third.

She had read the report on Akuze. Corporal Jane Shepard had been the only survivor after having witnessed the deaths of her entire platoon. She had survived, and others would say that now she was stronger because of it. But Ashley saw someone broken into so many pieces, she had put herself back together like a stack of blocks – looks solid, but pick out the right block, and the whole thing falls apart. She watched as Shepard knocked back another glass, and slammed it back down onto the counter with a little too much force. She was drunk already – a lightweight.

"I'm sure, if you just talked to her..." Ashley said slowly.

The commander smiled. It was cynical and bitter. She didn't say anything, but downed another drink and ordered a fourth. She was going for the goal, not caring how she got there, or about how she would feel in the morning when all those drinks would be nothing but something to regret.

"She ran into me the other day." Ashley told her, "She asked about you. We talked."

For a second, it looked like Shepard would drink her drink, but she laid the glass down onto the counter, untouched, and she asked, "Talked about what?"

"You." Ashley said, "She said she hadn't seen you since the Normandy docked. She didn't give any of the gushy details," She grinned, "But it was pretty obvious what she was getting at."

"Ever so observant," Shepard's voice was a little slurred, "Tell me, what did you _see _tonight? Around the table while everyone was so busy _talking_?"

"Other than that the Matriarch was flirting unsuccessfully with Doctor T'soni?" She said, her eyebrows raised, "I saw Liara looking at you when you were looking away. I saw her trying to come up with something to say to you, while you were too busy picking at your food."

Shepard looked taken aback, but only for a second. "I would have seen that."

"No." Ashley shook her head, "You had tunnel vision pretty much all night, Commander."

It was an easy mistake to make, when she was the person who saved a whole galaxy. It was the little things she ended up missing, having fallen for the smoke-screen. She felt her mistake gnawing at her, and she gripped her drink tightly.

"Call her."

"Then what, _Ashley_?" The Shepard tone suddenly turned tart. "Maybe we can go for a nice walk in the park? Maybe have some more meaningless sex thinking that we're going to _die_ tomorrow? I'm leaving for who knows what, gone for who knows how long, and we don't know each other." Shepard glared at nothing in particular, "I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't think she... I didn't know..." She meant to say, _she didn't know one person __could matter so much._

"You'll never find out," Ashley replied stonily, "Sitting here drinking, and getting all bitter over nothing."

Shepard drank her drink after all, her face getting flush, "No."

Garrus seemed unperturbed, "What are we talking about?"

Ashley could punch him right now. Just as she opened her mouth to berate the oblivious Turian, the Commander fell backwards, and hit the ground with a dull thud.

"What now?" Garrus asked.

Ashley sighed and bent down, "Help me."

Commander Shepard woke up still dressed in her dress blues. Her head was pounding. She could still hear the music from the club, although it sounded like it was playing through a fish tank. She was lying on a couch in an office she didn't ever remembering seeing.

"You're awake." She heard Ashley say from somewhere in the blur of a room.

She looked up, bending her neck as she did, and wincing as she did, "Chief Williams... _Ashley. _Where am I?"

"You took a nasty fall, Commander. The manager recognized you while we were trying to drag you off to a taxi. He offered us his office until you came to. Honestly, I thought you'd be out longer." Ashley explained, tossing Shepard an ice pack.

"How long have I been out?"

"About half an hour."

Shepard groaned as she placed the ice pack on the back of her neck.

"I thought you would never wake up, Commander," she heard Garrus say, "Quite the show tonight."

Shepard wondered why everyone had to describe random events as "shows". A show was something you bought a ticket to see. She didn't remember ever buying a ticket to see this train wreck. She closed her eyes, and suffered quietly as her headache grew worse. She couldn't remember much after her first drink at Chora's Den. Everything just kind of blurred together into a piece of ugly modern art, and all she could remember were visions of Liara, visions of their conversations, and – god – her headache was fast becoming unbearable. Silently, she laughed to herself: thinking that this must have been what Kaiden had been complaining about all the while. All the while, up until the moment he looked up at the bright blue sky, standing on a perfect white sandy beach, looking up as the Normandy and her crew – his friends – flew away, and the last thing he saw was the orange flash of a nuclear explosion. No more headache's, no more migraines, no more accidents, train wrecks, firefights, or shows for Staff Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko.

"May I have a drink?" She asked hoarsely.

"I sure hope you're kidding, commander." Garrus replied.

"I meant, maybe a water or something."

Garrus' mandibles twitched irritably.

"Wait a minute." Ashley disappeared through a set of doors Shepard could not see.

She could remember the last time she had found herself nearly comatose on a dirty club floor. She had been out with her friends, friends who knew where she was from, who she had shared tasteless jokes with, and spent days in the field with suffering. It had been their last day of shore leave, and they had made the most of it by drinking the clubs and bars dry. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the liquor while it burned itself down her throat. They would be jeering her on, daring her to drink another and another and another. If she closed her eyes hard enough, she could still see the sun up above as it blinded her. Laying on her back, covered from head to toe in blood and sweat, she could see the logic in picking herself up and running. There were thresher maw's underneath her – after her, probably taking a break since they were probably full. Probably still eating all her friends and entire platoon. She pictured the giant worms with shark teeth sitting around a table at the Criterion Restaurant, picking their teeth with Corporal Johnson's third rib. Suckling on Sergeant Farrell's left eye. Cutting into Private Crawford's right thigh. She could see the logic in picking herself up again, in running again, but she lay there on her back after having fallen again, and she lay there looking up at the sun blinding her until she closed her eyes.

"Here you go, Commander." Ashley handed her a glass of water, and several mints.

"Where did you get these?" Shepard wondered out loud. The mints were her favorite kind; little peppermints in the shape of rocket ships.

"The bar." Ashley replied.

Shepard drank the water until the glass was empty, and popped the small white mints into her mouth. Rolling them over and over with her tongue until they dissolved in her mouth.

"What's the matter, Shepard?" Garrus asked, "I'm sure you'll feel better once you've talked about it. A human said that to me once."

Garrus glanced at Ashley, and Ashley glanced at the floor. Shepard held her head in her hands, slumped over and unmoving. She was still drunk.

"Dinner was a riot." Shepard said.

"I thought it was boring." Garrus remarked.

"Matriarch Lidanya showed up," She said, "Even after 'keeping to herself lately'. How lucky were we, huh?"

Ashley sat beside the commander on the couch, "She was all over Liara."

Commander Jane Shepard's face hardened into a pout, and her arms crossed.

"I'm not understanding-" Garrus began to say.

"The Commander and Doctor T'soni have a thing going." Ashley snapped.

Garrus' eyes widened, "_Really!_"

Ashley glared and the Turian lowered his head, "I mean..._really_?"

Shepard smiled half-heartedly, "I'm such a sap."

"Commander..." Ashley said quietly, "I'm sure Liara's got her reasons. Maybe you just misunderstood the whole situation."

"It's not that." Shepard replied, "Even if she had come alone I'd still feel terrible. I don't have room for this."

Ashley studied the commander for a moment, "Ma'am, with all due respect, you're just being a quitter."

Shepard looked up in surprise, "What?"

"You're not even trying." Ashley said."You know what you want, but your letting it go without a fight. Where's that fighting spirit now?"

"Probably off doing more important things like trying to save the galaxy and hunt the Geth." Garrus commented.

"_Shut up._" Ashley whispered scathingly, then turned back to Shepard and said, "You're giving up a good thing. Do you really want to live until tomorrow or ten years from now knowing you just let it slip?"

Shepard already regretted a lot of things about tonight. She regretted not having called Liara earlier. She regretted having this deeply personal conversation with an non-commissioned officer. Highly unprofessional. Then again, she had sex in her personal quarters while on duty. Then again, she didn't care. It was strange that the things she was beginning to regret the least were the things that would have cost her this career. A career she felt now, that she had given far too much to. It was everything over nothing. Everything over someone.

"You could die tomorrow," Ashley pointed out, "You could either live your life while you have it, or not. Your choice."

"Remember: you're still drunk and probably not thinking straight." The Turian quipped.

The two humans looked up at him quizzically.

"And I've heard horror stories of your species emotional bouts." He added, "And you're a _female_."

The commander shook her head, "I have to get back to the Normandy."

"It _is_ late." Garrus agreed.

"Come on, Commander," Ashley helped the drunk woman to her feet, "Let's grab a taxi."

* * *

Ashley wondered if God really was watching. Did he have a sense of humor, or was he just really not paying attention sometimes? Honestly, she thought to herself, how else could _shit _like this happen? The taxi had stopped in front of the C-Sec offices, and other than a few awkward glances from the office guards, helping the commander to the elevator was mostly easy enough. The ride up was another story entirely, as both Ashley and Garrus watched nervously as the commander gagged a few times.

"She's going to vomit." Garrus pointed.

Ashley could imagine the mess. It was _everywhere_.

The elevator pinged as it reached the Normandy's port, and the double doors slid open. The first thing they saw was the sleek metal curves of the Normandy sitting there as it had until it's last foray into a hundred explosions in space. Ashley, her arm under the Commander's armpit, led the drunken Shepard out of the elevator. Garrus followed, but hesitated. When Ashley looked to see what the Turian had, there was a little break in her step as well. Leaning against the railing facing the Normandy was a blue figure wearing the same white gown she had worn at dinner. Although it was hard to tell the Asari apart from a distance, there was only one Asari that had any reason to be waiting there, and also the clearance to even have access to the Normandy's dock. Shepard, whose head was currently slumped forward and half asleep, must have forgotten to revoke it.

"Liara!" Garrus waved his scaly hand.

Chief Ashley Williams rolled her eyes, and continued to drag the Commander towards the Normandy. She couldn't ignore the doe-eyed stare Liara was giving her as she passed the girl on her way towards the Normandy's airlock doors. The way she was starring made her feel terrible, the way she walked by without a word. There wasn't anything she thought of saying, dragging Shepard by the alien-woman that loved her, that sounded right:

_Hey, this is your fault, by the way._

Or, _She really didn't mean to be a dick._

Maybe_, You should probably wait until morning, or she'd just start spewing the same craziness she was at dinner._

They made it to the entrance of the ship, but it had been locked sometime earlier that night. Ashley rummaged around in her uniform for her ID card, found it, and swiped the card through the reader. A computerized woman's voice told her, s_canning...scanning...scanning...thank you for your patience...scanning...she's still staring...scanning–_

"May I help you, Dr. T'soni?" Ashley asked, ignoring the computerized voice as it took its time_ scanning_.

"I was hoping to speak to Commander Shepard." Liara said apprehensively, "But I see that she's..."

"She's drunk." Garrus provided.

Ashley was getting sick of these aliens.

_Clearance approved._ The Normandy's doors slid open with a hiss._ Good evening and welcome aboard the Normandy, Operation's Chief Williams._

She readjusted the Commander's weight, and stepped into the detox area of the Normandy. Doctor T'soni had followed them in, and Ashley realized she had several minutes of standing around awkwardly to look forward to.

And the voice said this time, s_hore party, scanning...scanning–_

"What is troubling Shepard Chief Williams?" Liara asked innocently.

"You should probably ask her in the morning." Ashley said.

"She was perfectly lucid a few minutes ago." Garrus interjected, as Liara cocked her head to the side. Ashley could understand, the Doctor was a little confused.

Ashley rolled her eyes, "Well, she isn't _now._" She hadn't known Garrus was so dull about these things.

"Well, maybe I should have some of that sixth sense that humans keep talking about." Garrus replied coolly.

"What are you even talking about?" Ashley shook her head.

Ashley stared at the Turian, expecting him to offer an explanation and keep the conversation going to pass the time while they stood there, but he just looked right back at her wide-eyed.

"Hello?" She asked.

"_Non-_sense!" Garrus replied smugly, having executed a perfect human joke.

"Joker must have told you that one." Ashley muttered under her breath.

_Shore party, welcome._

The doors that led into the Normandy finally opened, and the trio shuffled in together in silence. Moving as quickly as she could while holding up the deadweight of her drunk Commander, and followed by a worried looking Liara and Garrus (who was trying to explain his joke), she made instantly for the Commander's cabin. She was always jealous of the private sleeping quarters Shepard got all to herself. Everyone else slept in pods, and otherwise had no privacy whatsoever.

Shepard's cabin was so clean, Ashley could describe it as sterile. The bed was made to military standards, the computer and it's keyboard were perfectly square, and the only thing misplaced was a empty glass on her desk. Shepard let out an audible sigh when she hit the sheets of her bed, and curled up automatically under them. Ashley wiped the sweat off the palms of her hands on her pants, and turned to see that Garrus and Liara were both starring at her as if she had something to say.

"Chief Williams," Liara began slowly and nervously, "May I wait here?"

Ashley wondered back to her advice to Shepard earlier that night, wondering if this was a chance that Shepard didn't want to miss.

So she nodded, "I don't see a problem with that. Technically, you still have clearance anyway."

Liara smiled thankfully, "Thank you, Chief Williams."

"Call me Ashley." She replied, "Everyone does."

Liara smiled, pulling the chair at Shepard's desk beside the bed, and she sat there.

They left, but before she did, Ashley looked over her shoulder. Liara had taken off Shepard's shoes, was taking off her jacket, when the Commander stirred restlessly in her sleep. The Doctor placed a hand on Shepard's forehead, bringing her face in close to hers and whispering as she did so. Shepard fell back into that drunken sleep she had been in, but this time, there was a content look on her face that had no been there before. Chief Williams, certain she had done the right thing, closed the doors behind her. She went to her worktable, and began to tinker with a problematic assault rifle that had jammed on several occasions. Garrus went straight to a sleep pod, and dozed off quickly. All the while, he wondered why they hadn't thought his joke funny, he had told it _exactly_ as Joker had told it to him.

* * *

Liara T'soni watched as Shepard slept. Contrary to what had been implied during dinner, there wasn't a minute during the last three days where Liara hadn't thought about the commander. She had spent the days dreaming back to her few weeks spent on the Normandy, and the nights wondering whether to call the commander. She had fought herself, at first, believing that the commander was far too busy with the Citadel, the fleet, and the Geth. Then, the day after normalcy had commenced on the Citadel, she had been requested to lunch with the Matriarch Lidanya. Doctor of Archeology Liara T'soni, Prothean expert, was compelled to accept.

She had dressed formally, as such occasions demand. She had arrived early, as etiquette prescribed. She had forgotten her research, which she thought was the reason for the entire invitation. By the time she sat down at the small café, wringing her hands underneath the small table shaped like a circle, she was so nervous that she didn't notice the matriarch approaching the outdoor table.

They spoke of nothing in particular in the beginning. You could describe it as frivolous nothings that they spoke of. Frivolous, because in twenty-two minutes their conversation consisted of the weather, the plant life or lack thereof, and the almond tasting human species drink with the bitter aftertaste that the human waitress called "coffee" that even after ordered and prepared must be further prepared with creamer and sugar. Then, maybe perhaps taking a few of the lessons she had learned from her short courtship previously, she had spied the way the matriarch studied her closely, smiled at her friendly, and motioned with her hand ever so gracefully. It was at that moment that Doctor Liara T'soni, Prothean expert, began to fear that her acceptance of this casual lunch occasion was ill conceived.

It was then after this realization that she ever so respectfully dismissed herself and retreated to her newly rented apartment and again wondered if she could, or even should, call Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard, hero of the universe. She paced the room, once pausing as she rediscovered her research misplaced underneath her couch, convinced that calling could result in too many unexpected and impossible to fathom end results. Nervously, she reached out for her communicator just as it rung, and had been invited to dinner in two days time with a guest list so highly prescribed that she had no choice but to accept. Afterwards she could have continued her inner debate, but instead she picked up her research, sat on her couch and wanted to cry. After dinner two days later, however; she realized how wrong she had been _not_ to call. Typical.

* * *

Jane Shepard opened her eyes. She was back in her cabin somehow. In the dim lighting of the room, she could make out the display of the computer she had left on, and the glass of water she had drank before heading off to dinner last night. She slowly picked herself up and off her bed, stretching her aching limbs and rubbing her crusty eyes. She locked herself into her newly added private bathroom, ran the water, and looked into the mirror. A tired and terribly wane face stared back at her, and her vanity suffered slightly more when she saw her red hair poking out in every direction. She plugged the sink and waited until it was almost full, then she dunked her entire head into the water. Emerging from the sink she dried herself with a towel and exited her bathroom, looking sideways at her rumpled sheets and the blue alien figure that sat in her desk chair.

...she looked again, and there sat Dr. Liara T'soni, sitting on Shepard's desk chair next to her bed hunched forward with her upper body sprawled on the bed in front of her. Shepard thought the Doctor was sleeping, but didn't want to wait around to see.

_What the fuck... _Shepard waved her hand in front of her door's scanner and bolted, _what the fuck? What the fuck!_

"Good morning, commander!" Somebody greeted her cheerily.

She didn't bother to look, and continued to speed walk to the first deck; past the saluting marine she never noticed, past the brightly lit map of the entire galaxy, past an old-looking Pressly, past the orange screens monitoring who-knows-what and manned by people in baseball caps, past Joker who was cripple-walking his way to his chair at the helm–

"Joker!" She paused mid stride, "Who brought me back last night?"

"Brought you back?" He asked puzzled, "What do you mean? 'Brought you back', did you die or something? Are you in the same clothes as yesterday? Why do you have towel? Did you just take a shower?" He wagged a finger at her, "Didn't your mother ever tell you to dress yourself?"

She felt a migraine coming along, and pinched the bridge of her nose irritably.

"You must have had quite the night there, Commander." Joker commented slyly, "Anyway, I locked up last night. The only one to open up the Normandy after that was Chief Williams. How did you… were you drunk and Williams had to drag you back?"

Ignoring his guffaws, Shepard tried to think back to last night, and could vaguely remember a dingy bar, a couch somewhere, and something minty in her mouth. She reminded herself to ask Ashley if she had done something crazy.

"Get Chief Williams up here." She said, wiping her brow with the towel still draped around her neck, "Actually get Chief Williams to meet me outside."

"But Williams is probably in the Normandy, along with us right now. _In the Normandy_. You want to meet her outside?" Joker asked.

"Yes. On the double." Shepard strode out of the Normandy.

"Alright," Joker called after her. "Good morning to you too, by the way!"

She leaned against the railing opposite the ships air lock, trying to remember something of the night before; purple and blue lights and raving dancing figures beneath them. She hadn't danced though, she was looking on afar. She had been looking for something else to focus on, but the amber colored liquid in front of her and the thoughts that had raced through her muddled mind.

"Shepard!" Anderson was just emerging from the elevator.

She turned slowly, uncomfortably conscious of the wrinkled t-shirt she was wearing, and the sodden towel around her neck.

"I have good news." He told her as he approached.

"That's good to hear." She replied, feel suddenly tired even though she had just woken up.

"Yes," He said with a wide smile, "I've secured three other ships that meet this missions requirements. All fast, and adequately armed."

"Good." She nodded, "It'll be nice to have some company out there."

"What's wrong with you?" Anderson asked.

She shrugged, "What do you mean?"

"You seem a little," Anderson searched for an appropriate word, "...distraught."

She _was _distraught – or whatever.

"What's wrong?" He asked inquisitively, but Shepard would like to describe it as nosily.

She searched through her years of experience for a lie that would pass off as the truth, but instead Chief Williams emerged from the airlock doors.

"Commander, you called?" the chief asked, and then spotted the grumpy councilor, "Oh."

"Chief Williams." Anderson nodded in greeting, "How are you?"

Ashley smiled and shrugged, "I've been good."

"Well, that's good to hear." Anderson said, "I have things to do at the office. I'll be seeing you all off though."

He walked away, but stopped several feet from the elevator doors, "Before I forget, there's a meeting at the Alliance Garrison headquarters. Make sure you're there early, I have some things to go over with you, Shepard."

"I'll be there." Shepard nodded.

With that, Anderson stepped in between the elevator doors, giving her a last parting glance as they closed slowly.

"You called for me, Commander?" Ashley asked.

Shepard pushed herself off the port railing, and turned to look at the Chief squarely. There was a crease between her eyes, and her lips were rigid.

"What happened last night?" She asked.

There was a blank void where an answer should have been, and Ashley had no idea where she wanted to begin.

"Well," She began, "We all went to a random club. You started drinking – didn't pace yourself at all, by the way. We started talking, you fainted, and we carried you into the manager's office." She was listing things off, using her fingers to keep count, "Then we talked some more. We all kind of left after that."

"_'We all kind of left?'" _Shepard echoed incredulously.

"Yes, ma'am" The chief confirmed.

"What did I say?" Shepard asked. "What did we talk about?"

Ashley searched for an appropriate way to put it, when Doctor Liara T'soni emerged from the Normandy's airlock doors. Chief Ashley Williams couldn't help but utter a silent prayer of thanks.

* * *

Doctor Liara T'soni woke up to an announcement over the intercom; _Chief Williams, _Joker's voice could have easily woken up a deeper sleeper than her, _please report to the Commander outside the Normandy airlock doors. _She straightened up, feeling a crick in her back from having slept in such an odd position all night, and found the bed where Shepard had been sleeping abandoned. Only a hint of warmth could be felt upon the dull gray sheets embellished with the trademark Systems Alliance logo in equal intervals from end to end. She had searched the room quickly with her eyes, and when she didn't see Shepard, as the announcement had implied, she got up in search of the Commander.

"Good morning, Doctor!" A voice said cheerily as she left the Commander's quarters.

Liara waved shyly and smiled in return, and continued walking up the stairs and past the dedicated marine that always stood there for apparently no reason, past the flickering map of the galaxy, past a suspicious looking Pressly, past the busy looking humans at their complicated looking diagnostics screens, and ran into Joker who was walking with difficulty towards the other end of the ship.

"Lieutenant!" She had greeted him with a polite nod of the head, "Have you seen Commander Shepard?"

"Yeah," He replied, "She just left in a hurry."

Liara politely lowered her head as she walked quickly past the Lieutenant and stepped outside to find Commander Shepard and Chief Williams talking in hushed tones.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." She said quietly.

Chief Williams smiled widely, "Good morning!"

Commander Shepard appeared less enthusiastic.

* * *

_Note: Please review._


	2. Half Hearted Waste

_Author's Note: I recently rewrote this chapter. I combined probably three chapters into one. -11/28/2010_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Half-Hearted Waste**

Ashley watched Shepard's face. It had gone awfully white, and she was fidgeting: crossing her arms, and then uncrossing them; leaning on the railing, and standing up straight. She was sincerely nervous for the first time Ashley had known the Commander. Looking at the Liara, she could tell that the alien felt pretty much the same way. If anyone else wrung their hands or constantly looked shy and nervously everywhere when someone was talking to them, it would just be irritating. Somehow, the Asari doctor managed to make it an endearing trait. It was almost cute in a strange alien way. Just almost.

"Commander Shepard." Doctor Liara T'soni began shyly, "I feel we should talk." She glanced in Ashley's direction sheepishly, "In private."

Ashley could take a hint, and nodded understandingly.

"I'll be getting back to the Normandy then. I've got a lot of things to do before we leave." She was backing away while she said it. Although she was friends with both of them, there wasn't a conversation she could have wanted to be a part of less. And so she disappeared back into the Normandy, only getting a glance of Joker as he eavesdropped using the Normandy's listening devices.

Shepard didn't know how to start a conversation like this. Standing there, her hands held in front of her like a priestess about to pray, Liara was beautiful in this morning light. All over again, she could feel those butterflies in her stomach, fluttering around like a plague that reversed her into some sort of babbling stupid person. She couldn't even remember what had happened last night, or what she had told Garrus and Ashley. All she could remember, was that she had been jealous and made a right fool of herself in front of the very person she should have been impressing with funny jokes, and charming flirtatious comments. Even with all this going through her head, Shepard couldn't help but notice she was still in that dazzling white dress. She had to struggle to keep her eyes off of it, and how it made her body look.

"Commander Shepard." Liara brought her back to the present, "I think that I would be right to assume that you are angry at me, however; I cannot for the life of me guess as to why. Please, have I done something to offend you?"

Shepard shook her head."No, I'm not angry with you. Why would you be under that impression?" It was a thin lie, and she knew it.

"You haven't spoken with me, and when you had last night," Liara looked sadly at her feet, "It was very...forgive me for my childishness." She shook her head vigorously, "I'm just glad that you're alright. I'll be going now."

Shepard saw her turn around, and start to leave. Somewhere, her crumpled paper emotions screamed at her to stop that blue alien Doctor of Prothean Archeology.

"Wait." Shepard barely placed a hand on Liara's arm, skin hardly touching. It was enough to be electrifying.

Confused, she had nothing to say. All Shepard knew, was that she wanted Liara to stay. She thought it was all very foolish. Out of all the people on the Citadel, the Systems Alliance, and the galaxy, she was the one not acting how she should – like a leader. But, she couldn't let Liara go.

"Can we talk?" Shepard asked finally.

Liara stared at her, just a little hesitantly, "We may."

More sociable gems of society made it seem so easy to just walk up and start conversations. Shepard, now that she had already made a complete idiot of herself, didn't see a point in skirting around the obvious.

"I just want to know if you've moved on." She shrugged, and began walking down the docking platform, away from the Normandy and her nosy crew, "I mean, us."

Liara walked besides Shepard, her hands held together serenely behind her back, and she said, "What-"

"I understand," Shepard interrupted nervously, "If you have, I mean. We only had that...one night, and she's very impressive." Shepard's eyes grew steadily downcast as she spoke, "She has her own ship. She's about a few hundred years older than me. She's very...pretty. She's doesn't seem like a dick. I've had my moments, on the other hand. By the way, I'm sorry about treating you so badly before we went to Noveria. She wouldn't have done that to you, I'm sure."

"Shepard." Liara's voice cut in, and Shepard realized she had stopped following behind for several feet, and was now looking at the Commander quizzically, "Who are you talking about?"

Shepard cleared her throat, "Matriarch Lidanya."

Liara laughed, not the shy conservative one she kept for people she wasn't entirely comfortable with, but the hearty one that sounded almost human. "You think that the Matriarch and I are seeing each other?"

Shepard felt more like an idiot after every second, and Liara laughing at her didn't help. "Yes?"

Liara closed the distance between them, "The matriarch and I are just friends. No need to be jealous, Commander."

Shepard bristled, "I'm not jealous."

"Don't lie."

Shepard crossed her arms, "Fine. I was jealous."

Liara smiled, a very sexy smile that mysteriously faded as she edged closer, "And as I said," Shepard was in awe of her blue eyes, "No need." She was getting closer, her hand already reaching out for Shepard's cheek.

In Shepard's mind, this was a perfect moment, but perfect moment's have a tendency to be shattered; a pile of crates tipped over, falling onto the steel platform floor in a mighty crash. Shepard jumped backwards, startled and looking for an army of Geth climbing down on nylon ropes from drop ships. It wasn't a relief that she didn't find any; the perfect moment was ruined.

Liara was still smiling at her, but it was awkward. The shy Doctor Liara T'soni was back, and that confident alien woman from before was gone. But at least, Shepard noted, one thing had been cleared up. She looked at her watch.

"I have to get ready for something." She said.

"Yes. I understand." Liara nodded, and walked past her on the way to the lift.

Shepard watched her go, wondering if that could have gone any better. _It probably could have_, she thought to herself dryly.

* * *

Commander Jane Shepard sat in the uncomfortable squishy black leather chair around the large oval table. She had rushed to shower and change into a clean uniform, and had parked herself in that squishy chair just on time. There were three other ship captains already seated, and they stared at her curiously when she entered; probably wondering if _this _was the legendary Commander Shepard, walking into a briefing _late._ She wanted to correct their judging stares, and tell them: _I'm right on time._ But in the military, she might as well have missed the whole thing.

"This is a reconnaissance mission. Designated SA 44-45." Some System's Alliance Lieutenant said as soon as she seated herself. The room lights dimmed immediately, and a projector buzzed to life somewhere.

The image projected on the wall at the end of the room changed to show four ships, each marked underneath with a series of numbers, firepower, and other statistics.

"This operation will involve four ships: the SSV Normandy, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard; the SSV Juno, under the command of Staff Commander Jerome Harding; the SSV Gold, under the command of Captain Gabriel Gagnon; and the SSV Utah, under the command of Captain George Douglas. Gentlemen, you will be individually sent to patrol and reconnoiter separate ends of the galaxy. It's risky, but it is the only way to make this mission time and cost effect. Alliance intelligence has given us an idea of where the Geth fleet are most likely to either hide and refit for a counter-assault or to retreat back to their home territory."

The Lieutenant pointed with a red-laser pointer when the next image flickered into place, "Around the Horse Head Nebula. The Kepler Verge. The Hawking Eta. There are other areas of interest, but these take priority for obvious reasons. In the folders in front of each of you is a file with instructions as to which systems are to be patrolled by your ships. Understand, that time allocation for this mission if tight given the scope. If you don't find anything within the first couple of hours in any particular system, I suggest you leave to another. The Alliance has allocated enough resources for this mission to last two weeks. If nothing is found, gentlemen, then you are to return here to the Citadel."

Councilor Anderson leaned forward in his seat and addressed the table seriously, "It is imperative that you treat this mission as if you _will_ find something, gentlemen. We can't miss anything, and if we do we run the risk of another fight, maybe not here on the Citadel, but I wouldn't rather have it on a colony either. This mission is officially reconnaissance, but understand that for us it's search and destroy."

Shepard watched the heads surrounding her nod slowly, the gravity of it all sinking deep.

"This mission is co-funded by the Council, however, due to constraints on the Citadel fleet at the moment, Systems Alliance ships and personnel will only be involved." The Lieutenant continued, "Don't forget, gentlemen, that this is a joint operation. It _will_ be a joint Citadel and Alliance fleet that will respond should any of you find the Geth."

"What if we do find a Geth fleet," Captain Gabriel Gagnon, captain of the SSV Gold, asked, "What do we do after we've called in the fleet? Stay and fight? That would be suicide."

The Lieutenant nervously pulled at his collar, "It has dictated that any action after discovery of the Geth is up to the individual captain. They suggest that, with a frigate's speed and maneuverability, that you distract the Geth until the reinforcements arrive."

"What reinforcements?" Gagnon asked.

"With the cooperation of the other council races: three Turian ships, two Salerian and Asari." The Lieutenant tried to keep a straight face, "To be perfectly clear, the Asari are reserving one of their larger and more formidable dreadnoughts for this mission."

There was a nervous murmur among the table.

"That's crazy." Captain Gabriel Gagnon replied, "Even for a frigate it would take a crazy pilot out of his mind to take on an entire fleet."

_Joker_, Shepard grinned.

"The Citadel and Alliance have small patrols protecting their colonies. These patrols are anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes away from any given location, and for the duration of this mission, they have agreed to put their patrols within easy distance of a mass rely. They should provide adequate support until the bulk of the Alliance Fleet arrives. " The Lieutenant explained, "You ships have also received upgrades in firepower and shielding."

The murmuring continued.

"If you do not stay to distract the Geth fleet," The Lieutenant tried to speak over the murmuring, "Than there is a chance that they will just run for it, and we'd have to hunt them down again. It's absolutely imperative that you keep the Geth fleet exactly where you find them."

"What if they turn and run anyway?" Staff Commander Jerome Harding, of the SSV Juno, asked, "If they have half a brain they'll know that one frigate is just a snooper."

"And they'll jam our communication's probably." Captain George Douglas, of the SSV Utah, added, "We'll only have seconds, if that, to send any sort of message."

The Lieutenant shook his head, "S-6, our communications section, has devised a simple device. It plugs into your ships existing communication's array and is programmed with a beacon to be activated as soon as you come into contact with the Geth. It can also be used to jam a mass relay, making the formation of a black hole impossible."

"Jam a mass relay?" Commander Jerome Harding of the SSV Juno asked incredulously, "And cut off our only escape. We'd be trapping ourselves."

The Lieutenant replied coolly, "The device will give the responding fleet time enough to reach the other end of the worm hole before the Geth can use the relay to escape. The device uses a special frequency that has already been given to the appropriate people. Once this frequency is detected nearby, the device will shut down."

"I don't like it." Captain Douglas stated, "It has too many things that could go wrong. What if the fleet takes longer, what if the device doesn't work. We're risking the lives of everyone we're sending into this suicide mission!"

Shepard saw each of the officer's heads nod in agreement. She couldn't blame them, she felt the exact same way, but the words Anderson had spoken just the day before stuck to her, as hard as she tried to shake it off.

"We're risking the lives of everyone we don't send." She quoted just loudly enough to be heard.

Each of the commanding officer's, their present executive officer's and senior navigator's turned to look at her. Shepard could see that they each understood what she had said, but underneath that was the hesitation every leader had to deal with. It was self-preservation. Having done that and been there, Shepard knew each and every one of them would give an arm and leg never to have to look at a crew, and then remember that moment as the last time you saw them alive. It was a feeling sadder than sad. It was a hole deeper than the deepest of holes. It was being faced with death, and it stared at you in the face with a scythe in one hand – your fragile life in the other.

Captain Douglas picked up the folder in front of him and tossed it to his XO, "I'll be at the docks."

The others followed suit and soon the room was empty, but for Commander Shepard and Anderson.

"You have a good memory." The Councilor commented.

"Not really," Shepard replied, "We kind of had that conversation pretty recently."

He smiled, "Thank you."

She picked herself up off her seat, folder in hand, and replied casually as she walked out the door, "You're welcome."

The old-fashioned wooden doors of the Alliance Military Garrison building shut behind her. She hadn't walked three paces before a voice beckoned her, "Commander."

She turned to see a man she didn't recognize in an Alliance military uniform, and from the bars on his shoulder and the excessive polish on his black shoes, she assumed he was Admiral Reynolds. He was the commander of the Alliance Military garrison on the Citadel. It was what other officers in the Alliance referred to as a "dead end".

"May I help you, sir?" She saluted stiffly.

He looked her over briefly, and returned her salute, "Come with me, Commander."

She wanted to ask why, but she looked at the bars on his shoulder and thought better of it. He led her along to a set of double doors, and opening them she saw that her had led her to his office. Behind an overly extravagant antique desk, the Admiral sat down on his equally overly extravagant black leather chair, and lit himself a cigar from an intricately carved extravagant wooden humidor.

"Have a seat, Shepard." The Admiral invited, not a hint of emotion in his unusually deep voice.

Shepard moved to one of the more plain leather seats in front of his desk and sat uncomfortably rigid. The Admiral looked at her through a cloud of cigar smoke.

"I understand that you have a new mission," He said, "It's my job to keep up with the fleet stationed here, and I've noticed something on _your_ ships manifest."

Shepard thought quickly. Her manifest was full. She had enough supplies. She couldn't think of why the Admiral had noticed _her_ manifest out of the four going on mission.

The Admiral frowned, "I'm aware of your association with a few non-Alliance crew members."

"Yes." She nodded, "I've employed the help of a few."

"This needs to stop, Commander." He said, "I cannot permit non-Alliance personnel on this mission. It's too sensitive. I hope you understand."

"With all due respect, sir." She said, "I don't understand. These _aliens_ have proven their loyalty and worth."

"And I do not have proof to the contrary, however; I believe it is a bad practice. For example, a Krogan gun for hire? A young teenage girl on a pilgrimage? The _daughter_ of an associate of the _enemy_?"

Shepard noted his particularly scathing tone at the mention of Liara, and felt compelled to jump over the extravagant desk, snatch the man's cigar out of his mouth and burn out both of his eyes.

"What about them, admiral? They're – they _were_ – integral members of my team." Liara wasn't coming.

The admiral puffed on his cigar smoothly, "Let me put this plainly, _Shepard_. None of these aliens have any affiliation to the Alliance, except for their short stint in helping to track Saren down and that mission is over._"_

He glared at Shepard between cigar puffs. The smell of it was making her sick.

"As an officer of the Alliance, and a soldier under my command, you are expected to follow my orders. These crew members are no longer mission essential. I am revoking their access to the Normandy, and I expect to see an all human crew on your updated manifest."

"I trust them with my life," Shepard argued, "Their expertise and experience will play a huge part in the outcome of this mission."

The admiral made a face between disgust and irritation, and he echoed, "_You trust them with your life_?"

He placed his smoldering cigar into an ash tray and stamped it out.

"Let me tell you something about trust, commander," He said scathingly, "To trust someone, you need to know them. Am I right?"

He waited for an answer and Shepard found herself nodding her head obligingly.

"Do you really know any of these aliens?" He asked, "I interviewed some of your crew and found that you were _still_ getting to know them while they were already aboard your ship. A ship, mind you, worth more than your overly publicized life."

"Sir-" Shepard began.

"Don' talk. Listen, _Commander_," The admiral cut her off, "You invited unauthorized persons aboard your ship without first conducting a proper background check, meaning that the clearances that you issued them were under false pretenses. I could have you court-martialed, and thrown into jail. I could have you discharged from the fleet, and humiliated for the rest of your life."

He snatched a folder from one of the drawers of his desk and threw it at the commander.

"As I said: a _Krogan mercenary _wanted for questioning in nearly a dozen cases of _assault _and _homicide; _a Quarian who apparently has _no_ record, and is automatically suspicious for that reason alone; an Asari doctor who also so happens to be the _daughter_ of a known associate of Saren himself."

Shepard wanted to ask, _what about Garrus?_ Despite her growing impatience, she decided not to push her luck by being a smart-ass.

"Not only were these aliens invited onto the Normandy without a twenty-four hour guard but they were allowed unrestricted access to the entire ship. What were you thinking? You put the lives of your entire crew in jeopardy."

With that final accusation, she felt something snap in the darker corridors of her character.

"Admiral, if I may explain myself," Shepard began, "Tali is a member of a people constantly under threat of Geth attack. She had every reason to join my crew and fight alongside me."

Before he could reply, she cut him off.

"As for, Dr. T'soni," Shepard could hear her own voice growing more poisonous, "She helped me kill her own mother."

The admiral looked away.

"The Krogan mercenary, who I'm going to call Wrex, because – you know – that's his _name, _was highly recommended by Citadel Security before I had him added to my crew."

"_Recommended_? By who?" The admiral asked, turning back to face Shepard.

"Garrus Vakerian," Shepard replied, realizing that her last statement was sort of far-fetched, but went with it anyway, "By the way, you haven't told me what Garrus has done prior to serving aboard the Normandy. Did he rob a bank? Kill a baby, maybe? Sir?"

The admiral was seething, "Don't get smart with me, Shepard. I have -"

"This much more years in service than I do," Shepard finished for him, drawing out a huge circle with her finger in the air, "Admiral, I'm all for showing respect, as I am very proud of my affiliation with the Systems Alliance, and of my rank. Don't play these games with me, sir. My crew, the aliens included, helped me stop Saren, and save lives. In the end, it looks like my trust was well placed." She added with particular relish, "I've already turned my manifest in, sir. It's not changing."

The admiral glared at her, "I'm going to have your _rank_ when you get back, Shepard. I'm going to wipe my _ass _with your service record."

"When I get back we can go outside and I'll show you who will be wiping their ass with whose service record, sir."

The admiral smirked and leaned back into his chair, "This is the last time."

"Sir." Shepard replied.

"Get out of my office._" _He lit another cigar and began puffing away as Shepard stood stiffly, turned heel and strode briskly out of the office and into the hallway.

Once the doors to the office had shut behind her and she began walking towards the taxi queue, she whispered vehemently underneath her breath, "I'll kick your fucking ass, you pencil pushing desk jockey prick son of a bitch mother fucker _asshole_."

* * *

Shepard watched as her crew picked up crates of supplies off a cart and loaded them into her ship. Chief Williams, newly promoted to full Chief and acting OIC of the marine contingent on board, stood beside her.

"Think we're going to find anything out there, commander?" She asked.

"No." She said, thought not convincingly.

The chief snickered, "That's what I thought. _Hopefully, _they ran away already."

Shepard smiled, and motioned towards a heavy plastic chest being heaved towards the Normandy by two Alliance technicians, "That's the secret device that's supposed to save our lives?"

"Yes, ma'am," The chief nodded, "Newly glued together comm equipment. Should be reliable."

Shepard noted her sarcasm, "How are the replacements stacking up?"

"They couldn't be greener. One of the marines is fresh from basic. Wish they gave us an actual officer to replace Lieutenant Alenko." Chief Ashley Williams shrugged, "I'll figure it out. This isn't my first time doing an officer's job."

They watched as the technicians struggled with the heavy chest, one of them cursed, and the plastic chest dropped noisily from their arms.

"That's not good." The chief commented, "I guess I should go help them."

The chief made to walk away but then suddenly turned back around, pulling a small piece of paper out of her pocket, and handed it to Shepard.

"Oh," She said smirking, "A friend handed this to me earlier after you left for that briefing."

Shepard watched as the chief winked, and headed off towards the complaining technicians. Pulling the folded piece of paper apart, she didn't recognize the neat cursive handwriting that simply stated an address and the name: Liara. She held the note in her hand, not noticing where he feet were taking her. In the Normandy, she half-heartedly put the note into her jacket pocket and found Joker at the helm as usual. He tossed her a clipboard, "To-do list, Commander."

In her hands was a never-ending list of things that needed to be done before they left, which wasn't too far away now. She knew she had to concentrate on the list, but her eyes wandered to where Joker was working. He was running diagnostics with the new device installed, and Shepard found it oddly mesmerizing to see all those lights flashing on and off.

"Well," He said, "You'll be happy to hear that it doesn't take much power to run. We'll be fine with it on all the time."

"Good." Shepard replied, "How did the crew respond to their last evening of freedom?"

"Don't know. I'm still here." Joker replied glumly, "Working."

Shepard grinned, "Why don't you just go, Joker? Anything you have left to do can wait until tomorrow."

Joker shrugged, "I'll stay here. The drinking thing isn't my style anymore."

"How's that?"

"I've grown." He smiled.

Shepard grinned back, "Sure you have." She dropped the list onto his lap, "Well, I'm going."

"See you then." She heard him call to her.

Shepard breathed in deep the night air of the Citadel. The hiss of the airlock doors closing behind her was like a sigh of relief, and she felt like a new private again. Free for the first time after weeks of being cooped up. She took the lift down to C-Sec, walked out onto the street, and hailed a taxi while reading the address off the crumpled slip of paper Ashley had handed to her earlier. As the taxi sped off, Shepard found herself wondering. It hadn't been awkward on the Normandy. There had always been work to talk about; the last mission, Asari culture, or the hunt for Saren. Now that she was about to embark on a classified mission, there wasn't much to say to a civilian Asari doctor of archeology with a specialization in the Prothean Civilization. It's not like they had ever shared interests or hobbies over a candlelight dinner while talking about that crazy plant thing on Feros. _We haven't even gone out on a date_, Shepard thought, a little bemused with herself. _We skipped that step_.

Before she could think about what to do about it, the taxi skidded to a halt in front of an apartment building. It was, like most in the Citadel, very minimalist and surrounded by recently manicured green shrubs.

Shepard sighed nervously, and looked down at herself. She was wearing the uniform she had worn that afternoon to the briefing, and wished that maybe she had changed into something less formal before she showed up. Brushing herself, more out of anxiousness than necessity, she then approached the door bearing the number written down on the slip of paper. She knocked twice, and waited anxiously. The door opened, and she saw Doctor Liara T'soni, Prothean expert, standing there in what Asari considered casual clothing. To Shepard, a human soldier, it was an elegant get up and suddenly _she_ felt under dressed.

"Commander Shepard!" Liara exclaimed.

"Hi." Shepard waved.

"Would you like to come in?" Liara invited, "I must apologize, I've been working...please, ignore the mess."

Commander Shepard entered the apartment, looking around to see a very sterile apartment. The couches were arranged at right angles, the pictures hanging on the wall were perfectly placed, and the desk in the corner was neatly organized. The mess, Shepard assumed, was the book left on the living room table.

"It's a mess, I know." The Asari distressed.

"The place is pretty spotless, Liara." She smiled, and motioned towards the book, "What are you reading?"

"A book on Prothean Civilization." She shrugged, "I was just doing some light reading."

Shepard smiled, "Sounds interesting." Though she really wasn't that interested, "I'm sorry for dropping by like this. I had some free time..."

Liara returned her smile, "I do not mind you dropping by, Shepard." She invited Shepard to have a seat.

"Would you like a drink?" Liara asked, while Shepard sat on her sofa. "I've just finished brewing a pot of tea."

Shepard nodded, "Sounds good."

Liara disappeared into the kitchen, and Shepard found herself alone in an alien environment. There were books on the shelves in a language she didn't understand, there was that feeling again – the one where she felt a grip on something she couldn't put a name to, and there was that music that suddenly started playing from somewhere in the apartment. Acoustic, and sounded like music that would have played to someone lying on a foggy beach somewhere. Or a man driving his daughter to school.

Liara was pouring tea into a cup, and Shepard had to struggle to stay focused on the present. She didn't understand why her mind was wandering so much. Liara sat on the couch next to her, and Shepard couldn't even remember what she had been thinking about.

"How has your day been, Shepard?" Liara asked.

"Busy." She said, "Everything's going according to plan. I can't complain."

"That's good." Liara replied, sipping her tea, abruptly reminding Shepard of the cup she held in her own hand, and that she was supposed to be drinking it.

"What are those books about?" Shepard asked, pointing at the massive bookshelf.

"Most are about the Prothean's. There are other books that I've found interesting to read, and a couple on religion." At Shepard's curious glance, she added, "My mother."

"She was very religious?" Shepard asked.

Liara's head cocked to the side, and she said thoughtfully, "She was. I never understood it. I would watch her and her followers, and to me it was always just apathetic. There was nothing sacred about it, but time passing and empty promises of an afterlife." Something dark passed over her expression, "I went into archeology against my mother's wishes."

"We always get into things against our mother's wishes." Shepard said jokingly.

Liara grinned, "Is that so? And what did you do that so angered your mother?"

"It wasn't so much my mother," Shepard explained, "It was my father. He wanted me to go to college, and _be somebody_." She laughed at the memory, "But I enlisted in the Alliance, thinking that following in my parents footsteps was right for me."

"Has it not been right for you?" Liara asked.

Shepard didn't know. "Has it, Liara?" She asked.

Liara put her cup of tea on the living room table, crossed her arms over her knees, and leaned into look at Shepard's face closely like a physic giving a reading. "Yes, and no."

"That's not an answer at all." Shepard laughed.

"But an answer, nonetheless." Liara smirked.

Shepard sipped her tea. It tasted like the earth, like a pine-cone fallen through the crisp mountain air. "I wouldn't be who I am today, if it wasn't for the Alliance." She said, somewhat darkly.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Liara asked, "You saved the Citadel. All the people alive today, because of you."

She smiled, "That's true. I don't regret it, but I always wonder how it would have turned out if I had gone to college." She said comically, "I would have been so normal."

"I doubt that." Liara said, "You would have probably saved your class from impending doom somehow."

Shepard laughed a real laugh, "I'd be on Earth somewhere. Probably working at a job I hate, with a crappy apartment, and a crappy car."

"Do you miss Earth?" Liara asked, leaning back into her sofa.

"Sometimes. My father retired there," Shepard said, leaning back also, "In the military, you can't bring your children around with you all the time. My mother went off on an extended deployment, leaving me with my father. He had asthma, so that cut his career a little short. Earth was where I stayed the longest for any amount of time. In a way, I guess it was home." She paused before saying, "That's where I enlisted, and where my father died."

"I'm sorry." Liara's hand rested on Shepard's knee and squeezed. She felt her heart race.

"Don't be." She shook her head, "My dad was doing what he always wanted to do; driving a truck through the country and fishing all day." She could remember the classic rock he played over his truck's radio, how it made even the most boring mountain roads like a rally race. "What about you, Liara? Where's home?"

"Thessia." Liara said, "It was a beautiful planet, but I never felt at home there."

"Why not?" Shepard downed her tea like it was whiskey.

The alien woman shook her head disdainfully, "The entire planet is a shrine to Asari progress. All the art, all the statues, and the culture speaks for only what a pureblood like me cannot possibly understand." She let her head rest against the sofa cushion, "I could tell when my mother's followers would talk behind my back. I could see how they really felt about me when they stared at me. They couldn't believe that a Matriarch like my mother could have me, a pureblood daughter. A child of no progress. Thessia was never my home."

"I don't understand that." Shepard said, "If anything, what you've done thus far has proven all of them wrong."

"It doesn't work that way, Shepard." Liara smiled sweetly, "They will attribute my success to my mother, and will conveniently overlook my parentage, but keep their prejudices for others."

Shepard frowned, feeling like going back in time and beating up all those prissy snobs giving Liara demeaning looks, "Well, that's not so bad then that you don't see a place like that as home. It's full of assholes, sounds like."

Liara smiled, "I heard once on the Normandy: _home is where the heart is._" She looked at the Commander with those clear blue eyes, "I've found that I agree with this."

"You agree with it," Shepard said, "So, where's home for you now? The Citadel?"

Liara chuckled, "No."

"The Normandy?"

"For a while." Liara said mysteriously.

Commander Jane Shepard shrugged, and smiled, "I'm not so good at these guessing games." Although she had a good guess.

Liara was staring at her again, like she had before at the Normandy. It was exotically attractive, and Shepard forgot what she was about to say next. And that's when there was ringing in her pocket that destroyed the mood yet again. It was her communicator, and it was Joker on the other end.

"_Commander," _He said, _"We've got a drunk marine here. There's two very pissed off C-Sec officers and Garrus telling me that he tore up a bar all by himself."_

"I'll be right there, Joker." Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, and hung up. "Duty calls." She told Liara, while standing up from the sofa.

Liara stood with her, disappointed, "I understand, Shepard."

"Maybe we can talk some more later?" She said like a scrawny teenager, "Or something."

Liara laughed, "Yes, we can." They were at the door, and Shepard felt the cool night air, only this time she would rather be back in the warm apartment, sipping tea, and talking about snobs on Thessia. "I hope to see you soon, Shepard."

She smiled, feeling like the most highly decorated idiot, and nodded, "I do too."

And before she could slow time down, or prepare herself otherwise, Liara leaned in and brushed her lips against Shepard's left cheek. Instantaneously, Commander Jane Shepard of the Alliance Fleet blushed red. Even when Liara had closed her door, and she had stepped into a taxi, she was still breathless.

* * *

At the Normandy, she found the marine handcuffed and barely standing; he was so drunk. Two C-Sec officers had to hold him up, and were constantly shrugged his hanging head from their shoulders. Shepard looked up him and down: there was clotted blood from a gash on his forehead, and a dark purple mass was beginning to grow over both his eyes. He looked a right mess.

"He got into a bar fight?"

Garrus nodded, "Believe it or not, he won."

Shepard shook her head. Two sober marines stood behind her, and she snapped her fingers at the drunk, "Get him to the infirmary. I want him under twenty-four hour guard."

"Yes, ma'am." They saluted and took the drunk marine from the C-Sec officers.

One they were gone, Garrus sent away the two officers, and he laughed as Shepard shook her head with a grin on her face.

"They never change." She commented.

"True." Garrus replied, "Although, I have to say, they don't fight like _that _in C-Sec."

Shepard stuffed her hands into her jacket pocket, "What happened?"

Garrus shrugged, "Some other drunks from the SSV Juno got to bragging. The Normandy came up, and then this marine got to punching. He took out maybe three or four by himself before he was subdued by my men." He gave the equivalent of a human smile, "It was quite the scene. If I was you, I'd reward him rather than punish him."

Private First Class Donald Fox was his name. Shepard made a note in her head to remember that name. He would either die very young, or he would make it far in the Alliance.

"Anyway, he'll feel bad enough when he wakes up in the morning." She said, "I'm still going to take him along, and maybe give him KP duty for the duration."

"Leaving no man behind, I see." Garrus said.

"None." Shepard grinned, "We'll see how he turns out."

"Were you ever like that, Shepard?" Garrus asked, "I ask out of curiosity."

Shepard shook her head, laughing, "You're asking because of the other night."

He nodded, "Yes. I guess, I am."

"Yes." She nodded, "I was like that once, when I was young and stupid and given my first big gun on my first big adventure."

"And you don't have big guns anymore? No more big adventures?" Garrus asked, disbelieving. "I would think you would drink more now."

"You would think." She said, "But the other night was the first time in a long time that I've had a drink."

"What for, Shepard?"

She smiled, walking towards the Normandy, "A different type of first big adventure, I guess." She waved to Garrus as the doors slid closed, and she wondered at what she just said.

She went to her cabin. So late at night, it reminded her of that night. She had been sitting there, at her desk, going through scenarios in her head. The doors to her cabin had opened unexpectedly, and it was Liara that walked in. She remembered thinking something was wrong. What happened next, she could have chalked up as just another one of her flings. She didn't have a lot of those, but she definitely had more of those than serious relationships. She had so many other things to do; saving the Citadel, saving this and that, going here and there – she didn't have time to think of the thing that confused her the most.

Commander Jane Shepard laid down on her bed, and she fell asleep. She dreamed she was eighteen again, and she heard her father and mother talking to her, telling her of the beauty of Jupiter, the mysteries of black holes, the adventure, the romance - life is so full of possibilities, _you're still so young, Jane_ - she dreamed they spoke to her of all these things, but she didn't understand a single word.

* * *

_Please review. _


	3. The Goodbye Crowd

_Author's Note: I listened to a lot of 80s rock. Satellite by The Hooters and Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne are effing awesome._

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Goodbye Crowd**

Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard opened her crusty eyes. All around her the gray walls seemed alive, like they were watching her every move. She felt her life was like a show people were watching, and every moment was narrated and a song played with it. People were watching, expecting things for her to say and do, and all she wanted to do for herself now and at this moment, was lay there. In the dim light of this cabin room, she wanted to stay. She breathed deeply.

She had been dreaming again, and she saw old friends she had left behind. Most were dead, some were gone, and all of them haunted her nights with a life that felt altogether separate. She sat in bed, the face of Sergeant Jim Farrell fresh in her memory. She remembered he had brown hair, cut short in military regulation style. He had brown eyes, and a face in the shape of a square. He wasn't muscular, but he wasn't fat either. He was just big, like an overgrown stuffed teddy-bear. His laugh sounded like a french horn being blown on in short bursts, and he was always laughing.

Jim made her laugh, he made everyone laugh. He had taken her out drinking with other friends. She had never drank before, and so he got her a long train of jägerbombs.

_It's like apple juice. _He told her, and she believed him.

She drank three before she wanted to throw up.

_I want to go home! _She was all over the counter, _I feel bad! _

_Just one more! You can't leave until you drink one more!_

She drank a fourth, and she promptly threw it all up. She barely made it outside in time, and when she returned to her seat, he patted her on the back.

_You threw up! _He said to her, _now it's time to rally! _

And there were four more jägerbombs dropped in front of her, and she drank them as well. It was his voice she heard, when she heard the words: _Drink! Drink! Drink! _

When their ship was leaving, it's engines already screaming so no one could be heard, she had seen him cry. It was the manly kind of crying, where the tears don't fall. They can barely be seen in the sad eyes of a husband leaving his wife, though she isn't the most honest, and his young infant son, whom he hardly knows. They were the last to board, and when Shepard turned around, his wife glared at her with his baby son in her arms.

Sergeant Jim Farrell was her friend, and she still remembered when his body was torn apart in front of her. How sticky his blood was between her fingers. How quickly it dried in the burning sun.

* * *

Private First Class Donald Fox woke up with a splitting headache. He was handcuffed to a bed in the infirmary, and a marine, whose named he couldn't recall, was glaring at him from across the room. He tested the handcuffs, rattling them against the bed until the double doors to the infirmary slid open and a pair of very mean-looking marines marched in straight for him.

Without a word, they unlocked his handcuffs and took him by the arms.

"Hey," He protested, "Where are we going? What happened?" Though he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly just what had happened. "Am I in trouble?" He knew he was.

"Shut up." One of the marines said curtly, dragging him up the steps to the CIC.

"Listen," Fox tried to shake them off, but they held on, "I can walk myself."

"We're sure you can," The other marine commented, "But it's funner doing stuff like this," They _accidentally _slammed him into the side of the staircase, "...to fresh boots like you."

He angrily tried wrenching his arms out of their grips, but he was a fresh boot and they, even if they weren't stronger, knew how to hold onto their prey. They led him up the steps, past the map of the galaxy, past a smug looking Pressly, and straight to the helm, where a very stern Commander Jane Shepard was standing with her arms crossed and her back to them. When she heard their boot heels behind her, she turned around swiftly, and Private First Class Donald Fox bore the brunt of her severe gaze. Suddenly, he felt very small.

The marines let go of his arms finally, and they disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

"Ma'am." Marine Donald Fox saluted.

"Stand at ease." Shepard made a point of almost ignoring him.

She hovered behind Joker, tapping him on the shoulder, and talked in hushed tones as if they were actually working. Truth was, they had already finished and all that was left to do was wait for the seconds and the minutes and the hours to go by. When she saw Private First Class Donald Fox begin to relax, she turned on him abruptly, and there was a coolness in her voice she reserved solely for special occasions.

"Why don't you tell me your version of events last night, marine?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a demand.

He kept his eyes forward, as he had learned in boot camp, and he had an answer ready, "A couple friends and I went bar hopping in the Zakera Wards after work. I don't remember which bar we were at exactly when the incident happened, but I overheard other marines badmouthing the Normandy, Commander."

"I am your commanding officer. You will address me properly." She snapped, "A bunch of drunk marines began to brag, and so that gave you right to break the law?"

"Ma'am. Yes, ma'am." Donald Fox began to sweat, "Ma'am. No, it did not give me the right to break the law, ma'am."

Shepard stood there with her hands held behind her back, not like Donald Fox, however; she held her hands like a Spartan would hold his shield. Back straight, chin at an upward angle, and her eyes steely as they stared the poor Donald Fox down. It was a show she had mastered.

"I could care less for the law. You've disgraced the Normandy on the eve of battle, marine." She said, "Whatever honor you thought you were defending, you lost when you threw the first punch. For that, you will be punished."

"Ma'am. Yes, Ma'am." Donald Fox hid his dejection perfectly, Shepard noticed.

"Chief Williams is in charge of the marine detachment on this ship." Shepard turned her back on him, but kept talking, "As I understand it, she has some weapons that need cleaning." She paused, "And some toilets. Dismissed, marine."

"Ma'am." He saluted.

She returned it, and watched him leave. Such a stony expression could only be learned one way, and Shepard knew even without reading his thick record that this was not his first time in trouble.

"Fox." She called.

He stopped immediately, spun on his heels, and snapped to attention. It was impressive for a newly graduated boot, and even Shepard had to admit, it had been forever and a minute since she did such a maneuver.

"Yes, ma'am."

She walked up to him, speaking so only he could hear, "You had the right reasons." His eyes grew just a little wider, and she said, "Next time, how about a different method."

"Yes, ma'am." His lips came precariously close to smiling.

"Don't smile." She warned, and his face became stony once more, "You're still on my shit-list, marine. Go away."

"Yes, ma'am!" He said enthusiastically, saluting her once more.

Spinning on his heels, he marched off towards the lower deck. If he forgot the smell of dirty latrines, or the oil he wouldn't be able to wash off his hands after hours of cleaning a weapon, he wouldn't forget what she said. She returned to her usual spot, loitering behind Joker as he did whatever it was he did on those computers of his. He spun around in his seat to face her, a wide grin on his face.

"You're getting soft." He remarked, "I remember the first time I met you, you didn't cut _me_ any slack."

"I could tell you didn't need it." She replied, "You had a big enough head as it was."

"Did not." He spun back around, "And he didn't? He's a fresh boot!"

She shook her head, "And _that's_ exactly how I know you never went through boot camp, Joker."

"I resent that." He snorted, "I went through flight school, and believe me – it was no picnic."

"Oh yeah, that's right." Shepard said sarcastically, "You were made fun of, and had to read a lot."

"Okay, that was low." He wagged a finger accusingly at her.

She held her hands up placidly, "Did I hit a nerve?"

He grinned over his shoulder, "Come on, give me more credit than that."

She smiled, "I thought I heard a sob."

"You farted, Commander." And with a final chuckle, he went back to work.

Shepard walked back towards her cabin, she thought she'd check her gear one more time; past several crewmen making last minute adjustments to their consoles, past marines lugging their gear over their shoulders, past an aggravated looking Pressly. She had been through a scene like this once before, and it had ended well enough. She hoped it would again. Twenty-four hours could feel like minutes when you secretly didn't want to go, but the clock wouldn't stop ticking.

* * *

Doctor Liara T'soni sat at her desk, a book in her lap, and her hands typing away on her computer. She had decided to take her mind of things by writing a research paper she didn't really plan on finishing or turning in. She was throwing all the facts and the statistics she could remember into the paper, not in any order, and not grammatically correct at all. She was trying to forget how it felt to sit on a couch and talk to someone she found interesting even when they sat there eerily silent.

A message box appeared on the lower corner of her computer screen with a small pop. It was from Ashley, and it was a short message: h_ey were having a going away ceremony tonight. It's supposed 2 be only family and military and stuff, but I can get u by security. u saved the Citadel too. u in, chicken lol :D - Ashley_

Liara couldn't help but send back a reply: _Of course, I would be delighted to attend. Yours sincerely, Liara T'soni._

Minutes later, her reply: _woot. I wont tell the commander. Jus show up hahaha ;)_

Liara pondered: _Wouldn't it be better to inform her of my arrival? _

_No! _Ashley replied, _she'll be standing there thinking u wont show, and all of sudden u do! It'll be a nice surprise._

Doctor Liara T'soni, as socially inept as she was, could not understand why this idea was nice at all, and she typed: _Wouldn't that make her angry instead? I would assume that a woman like her doesn't enjoy surprises._

Ashley's reply sounded short: _That's only when she's being a prude at work. Aren't a Geth so u should be fine! Jus do it! It'll be fuuuuun! :D_

_If that is what you think is best, Ashley. _Liara typed, and after a moments deliberation she added: _**:)**._

Liara deleted her awful research paper immediately, and sped into her bedroom. She flung open her closet door, and sifted through this dress and that outfit, until she ran out of options and just decided to dress casually. After all, this was going to be a ceremony full of mostly humans, who were by far, the worst dressed species in the galaxy thus far.

* * *

The crew was gone. Shepard had given them the last few hours before their departure to say their goodbyes, either to family and friends or to the luxuries such as solid ground beneath your feet or open space enough for you to feel at ease. She had stayed at the Normandy's dock, watching as the crew trickled back. Some had family with them, other had friends, and some came back alone. They mingled outside, and she made her rounds. She went through the groups, meeting so-and-so's parents, wife, or husband. She would say what she knew they wanted to hear, and they glowed with pride as she did – sometimes it was the truth, and sometimes it wasn't. It wasn't until she found Private First Class Donald Fox alone in a corner, that she finally said something she somewhat meant.

"You look lost." She remarked.

He shrugged, "I'm just standing here, ma'am."

"You can't stand around with people?" She asked condescendingly, "You're only going to be cooped up with them for forever in a tin can."

He looked at her uncomfortably, "Ma'am, I don't really know any of them that well."

"Why not start now?" She asked.

"I think I have time, ma'am." He said, "With all due respect."

She smiled a little bit inside her head, "You do." She said, "Or you might not. Better to start now."

"I think they're all saying their goodbye's and stuff." He made a face, "I don't want to intrude, ma'am."

"It's your choice, Fox." She crossed her arms, and had no intention of leaving. "Where are you from?"

"Earth." He said. "The United States. My parents own a farm in Ohio."

She nodded, "I know that place."

He looked surprised, "You do? Are you from there, ma'am?"

"No," She said, "My father took me on a road trip through the United States one summer. We passed through. It was pretty country."

"So, you're from Earth too?" He asked.

She nodded, "Mostly. Both my parents were in the Alliance." She added, "We stayed in California mostly. My father had a cabin near a lake."

"Sounds nice." He said, and added quickly, "Ma'am."

She wanted to laugh, but she kept it in, but may have let a smile slip.

He looked hesitantly at his feet, then with a sudden resolve he said, "Ma'am, I'm not sorry for that fight."

"I know you aren't." She said.

He looked at her suspiciously, "You do?"

"I was enlisted, Fox." She said, "I know what it's like. I didn't get to be such an up-tight prude until I went through OCS."

He looked dangerously close to smiling, "How far did you get, ma'am? I mean, as an enlisted."

"I went as far as Service Chief." She said, "Then I was picked up for N7 school, and then OCS. It was a package deal."

"Wow." He looked genuinely impressed, "How was N7 school?"

"Why? Looking to go yourself, Fox?"

He shrugged, "Maybe, ma'am."

She smirked, "It was tough. There's a eighty percent drop-out rate for the first week. The second week is marginally lower. The third week is where you know you might make it. Eight months later, you graduate the core courses, but you still have a little over a year to train. Even then, you aren't really accepted by others until you go on your first mission." She recalled her baptism of fire. Even though she was by no means a rookie, she had not seen action through the eyes of the special forces until that day came. It was fast, and her instincts born from nearly two years of non-stop training kicked in faster than adrenaline. It was then that she knew what it felt like to be elite; how everyone seemed so slow, their aim too wild, allowing their fear to leak out onto their face. She felt like an immortal wading through a sea of lead. She felt like nothing could touch her. "After that, it only got easier."

"How many graduated from your class, ma'am?" He asked.

She thought back to that snowy day, and how thin and ragged she had been after an intense month-long exercise. The instructors had thrown everything they had at them. It was thirty-days of being on the run, being on the offensive and the defensive, and living purely off of oxygen and sunlight. "Six."

"Six?" Fox echoed disbelievingly, "How many did you start out with?"

"Somewhere around forty or fifty." She said, "I'm not really sure anymore."

Fox pursed his lips. He wanted to ask a question, but didn't quite know how to ask it without sounding pretentious.

"You want to know whether you might make it." Shepard said.

He nodded, "Yeah."

Shepard shrugged, "One day at a time, Fox. Survive this mission first, and we'll see what comes next."

"They're saying this is just a piece of cake." He said, "That we won't find anything and we're just wasting time."

"Who's saying that?" She asked.

He shrugged, not about to be a snitch on marines he barely knew, "I don't know."

"You volunteered, didn't you?" She asked.

"Yes." He nodded, "What does that have to do with this patrol?"

"You volunteered to put yourself in danger in order to protect the Alliance. There's a chance, no matter how small that chance is, that there are Geth out there about to wreck havoc." She said, "It's our job, as volunteers, to go out there and put ourselves in between the enemy and the Alliance."

"Oh." He said dumbly.

"Don't let people confuse you. Sometimes people just don't want to go, which is understandable. No one wants to jump in front of traffic either."

"Yeah." He said, and added quickly, "Ma'am. I mean, yes, ma'am."

"If all else fails, Fox, tell people to just do it." She shrugged, "That's what I do all the time."

He chuckled nervously, "Yes, ma'am."

A minute went by where they did nothing but watch the other members of the crowd milling about, until he said rather suddenly, "Ma'am."

"Yes?" She asked.

He pointed over her shoulder, "Chief Williams is waving at you, ma'am."

Shepard turned around, and spotted Ashley Williams waving at her like she was about to land a plane.

"Hey!" Shepard heard her calling, "Commander, get over here!" And she barely heard, "Please?"

"Well," She turned to face Fox, "Try and talk to some people. Might as well. You can only enjoy the view for so long."

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted.

She returned the salute, and left in Ashley's direction only to find out, once she got there, that the Gunnery Sergeant was gone. She looked around at the empty space of dock, and inwardly promised herself to throw the Gunnery Chief into a wall or something the next time she saw her.

"Commander Shepard."

There it was again. She spun around faster than she should have, and she wasn't sure if that was why she felt so dizzy or if it was because it was Doctor Liara T'soni standing there in all her beauty, calling her name.

"Liara." She nervously stuck her hands into her trouser pockets, "Hello."

_I sound retarded. Just great. _Shepard thought angrily to herself.

Liara smiled playfully, "Hello."

"I didn't think you would be here." Shepard said, "How did you get past the..." _Ashley_, she seethed.

"I wanted to see you off." Liara said.

Shepard looked sheepishly as she said, "I should have invited you."

"Don't apologize, Shepard." Liara shook her head, "I understand that such an occasion demands discretion."

"I'm..." Shepard said slowly, "...not so great with these things."

Liara stood a little closer now, and Shepard felt her heart beat just a little faster.

"What aren't you great at?" Liara asked. "Enlighten me."

She didn't know how to put it. If this had been anything else, she would have a ready bullshit answer, but as always Liara T'soni was confusing.

"I'm bad at..." She made up as she went along, "...inviting people to stuff."

Liara laughed, "I see."

"You make me sound like an idiot." Shepard said without really thinking about it, "I mean, I sound like an idiot, because of you." _That's not right either, _a voice whispered in her head. "This isn't coming out right. I'm an idiot."

"If you said it three times, it must be true." Liara said, smiling.

Shepard smiled, "Where did you learn that one from?"

"Ashley." Liara said.

They grew silent, and began walking side by side down the docking platform, away from the mingling crowd. The further they got, the more distant the sounds of the murmuring and the talking, and pretty soon it was just the sound of their two lone footsteps on the steel floor beneath them. Jane Shepard stole quick glances at Liara every moment she thought the Doctor of Prothean archeology was looking away; she noticed Liara was wearing yet another graceful dress, this time a wonderful shade of green, and how sophisticated and sexy it made her look.

"You're staring, Commander." Liara remarked with a smile on her lips.

Shepard immediately looked at the horizon, breathing in deeply as he cheeks flushed red, "That's a nice sunset."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Liara grin for a moment before she replied, "Yes, it is."

Silence. "Yeah, I was staring." Shepard admitted.

Liara laughed, "It is quite acceptable." She said, "I rather prefer it."

For a strange moment, usually stoic Commander Jane Shepard felt like dancing horribly in circles.

"You look beautiful tonight, Liara." Shepard found it oddly easy to say, "It's no surprise you have two of us fighting over you."

"Would you fight for me, Commander Shepard?" Liara asked playfully.

"Yes," Shepard said. "I would never turn down a good fight."

"Then it is a pity." Liara walked away to the railing, and looked over her shoulder at the Commander with a mystifying smile, "I have already chosen the winner."

"And who would that be?" Shepard followed and stood next to her, looking into Liara's blue eyes, "I'm _terrible_ at these guessing games."

"Shepard." Anderson was walking briskly towards them, "I have to speak with you."

Shepard couldn't turn around at first. Disappointment and disbelief both clashed together in the pit of her stomach, and she turned around only after she was sure none of it could be seen on her face. But Liara saw, and though she felt the same way, she couldn't help but feel oddly satisfied by it.

"Yes, Anderson?" Shepard asked.

"Liara, I hate to do it, but could you let Shepard and I talk in private?"

"Of course." Liara bowed her head slightly, and walked away back towards the crowd in the distance.

Anderson waited until she was out of earshot, and although Shepard personally thought that amount of discretion around Liara T'soni was unnecessary, she waited patiently.

"Shepard," Anderson turned to face her, "I just wanted to wish you luck. I know it's soon-"

"Anderson." Shepard interrupted, "Soon or not, a job's a job. It has to get done."

He smiled, "I'm glad you understand."

Shepard looked down at the purplish clouds slowly turning amber and red and orange. She understood that it was hard running in sand with heavy boots. That when she turned to look back at her father standing by his red truck, as he waved at her with that smile on his face, it was the furthest she had felt from him. She understood, that when she watched thirty-seven metal coffins sit where her friends had stood, she'd never forget it.

"It's almost time." Anderson checked his watch.

"I know." Shepard made a fist and rapped it lightly against the railing. "After all this time, I still get a little nervous."

"We all do, Shepard." Anderson said.

"What if we find them..." Shepard asked.

Anderson grimly looked out at the Citadel and it's many flashy lights, each one he imagined was a living room occupied by a little happy family. "You'll either be lucky or you won't."

Shepard smiled, "That's all it ever comes down to."

"You've been lucky so far," Anderson said, "You're chances are as good as any."

_What a life_, she wanted to say. She didn't, and instead she started the long walk back towards the crowd. Anderson followed her, and very soon she was in the thick of it again; talking to those who stopped her for a quick word, that very quickly became a much longer conversation. In between words, she would look around for a flash of blue or green. She saw neither that was familiar, and the minutes ticked by faster than she would have liked.

Much too soon, Anderson was standing next to her, and her crew was marching their way on-board the Normandy. Family and friends waved their arms, called out their last goodbyes, and held up signs with hearts and other such things drawn on them in permanent marker. Shepard watched, until it was her turn, and she walked across the plank into those sliding doors. She turned around as they closed shut, and the last thing she saw, standing serenely at the other end of the plank and smiling softly, was Doctor Liara T'soni.

* * *

_Please review. Assholes._


	4. Soldiers Go Bam

_Author's Note: This time it was Tom Petty's "Flirting With Time" and "Learning to Fly". :D_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Soldiers Go Bam**

It had been a week since they left the Citadel, a week of prowling the Normandy's corridors. Commander Jane Shepard couldn't sleep. The gray metal walls gawked at her from all sides, the scarcity of light perfectly depicting the late hour. Walking along like a tired old man, she got to thinking, and her mind went to strange places at the dead of night.

She never felt at home in space. Contrary to popular belief, she had always felt more at home sitting on a wooden pier beside a lake. At the base of a tall snow-capped mountain, so every time she looked up from her reflection in the crystal waters, she'd see the towering mass above and wonder. Sitting there where politics could not reach, where the geth had been unheard of, and when she was just a girl allowed a few minutes to herself – whose life had yet to drag on and on. It had been a relief she had yet to realize, now in her late twenties, she only wished she could go back to one of those many moments and sit beside that lake, with her mind too full of things that didn't matter and too little of things that did.

"So," Chief Ashley Williams asked her, "What are you thinking about?"

Command Jane Shepard looked around her, and forgot where she was. Somehow, she had made her way to the cargo bay. Realizing that daydreaming to the point of losing track of where your feet took you was _weird _and _crazy_, she decided to put on a show. She looked around herself purposefully, as if what she was doing was completely deliberate, and marched over to Ashley's worktable.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Jane Shepard rolled her eyes as she approached

"Come on!" Ashley nudged her in the ribs, "No one's around... you can tell me how your little visit went!"

"What visit?" Jane checked the chamber of a rifle, "Did Fox clean these?"

Ashley pursed her lips, "You _know _what visit I'm talking about." She snatched back the rifle from the Commander's hands, "And, yes, he did clean these. You should lighten up, it's not like you just got here and have to show everyone who's boss, Commander."

Shepard picked up another rifle, pulled back the charging handle, and dragged a finger along the inside of the chamber. She pulled it back, and it was covered in black soot. "It's still dirty." She commented lamely.

Ashley snatched that rifle back from the Commander's hands as well, throwing her a nasty look. "Don't tell me you never got into the occasional rope-a-dope when you were young!"

"I did." Shepard said, "And I got in trouble for it."

"I forgot, you're part of the _old _generation." Ashley started taking apart the rifle, "I forgot how _long_ you've been in the military – where they cut off your hand for stealing."

"If you ask me," Shepard grinned, "They were too easy on you guys. We got ten lashes for disobeying orders."

"Really?" Ashley paused, wide-eyed.

"No, not really." Shepard chuckled, "God, you're gullible."

"Ha ha." Ashley started cleaning the bolt of the rifle with a fresh rag, "You're almost as funny as Joker sometimes. _Almost_."

Shepard looked glumly down at the rest of the rifles; she didn't want to check the rest of them.

"Couldn't sleep?" Ashley asked.

Shepard shook her head, frowning. "It happens."

"Have you talked to _Doctor_ Chakwas?" Ashley asked, "You know, she's a _doctor_. When people have problems, _doctors_ are usually the people to go to. They went to school for a piece of thick paper that says they know better than you. You should probably listen to them. Just saying."

"Noted." Shepard replied dryly.

"So, how is Doctor T'soni?" Ashley asked slyly.

Shepard sighed, "Don't you ever get bored of asking me?"

Ashley tilted her head to the side, pausing in her rifle cleaning, and said seriously, "No."

Changing the subject was no problem for Shepard, "Fox doing alright?"

The Chief chuckled to herself, "He's doing fine. He's a marine." She shrugged, "He can take anything the brass might dish out. You remember how it is."

"I do."

She remembered getting her corporal stripes. Jim Farrell had been the one to pin her, and had given the customary speech in front of the platoon.

_Everyone knows Corporal Shepard._ He had said, _Hard not to notice a walking Christmas card. _

He had joked often about her red-hair and bright green eyes. It clashed horribly with her pale complexion, but as hard as she tried, she never tanned.

_But she's one of the best marines I've ever had. She's responsible for her actions, she takes the initiative. _He smiled at her, _And she's a professional. I have the honor of welcoming her to the NCO corps, and I also have the honor of being a good friend. Congratulations. Don't abuse it, or you'll get fired. _

Everyone laughed at that. There was no getting fired in the military – you signed you life over to the Alliance for five years, and they were going to get their five years.

Whether she was ready for it or not, those stripes had been pinned to her shoulders. She felt the weight almost instantly, and she wondered what made her stand out from the rest – she was eighteen, and as young and fresh as the rest. She might not have been as foolish, she might not have drank as much, or she might have moved just a little faster when she walked. She didn't feel ready, and if that wasn't enough, she was scared.

She wanted to be a soldier. She wanted to follow orders, not give them.

"So," Ashley grinned, putting the finished rifle back onto her worktable, "What are you thinking about now?"

Shepard smiled, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"I think it would be a great burden off your shoulders," Ashley said, "Just _let go_, Commander. _Let go_." She exhaled with a wide smile.

"In your dreams, Chief."

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" Ashley put her hands on her hips, "It's like that? _Really_?"

Shepard smiled, "I don't know what you mean."

"You know _exactly—_" Ashley paused for dramatic effect, "_What_ I mean."

"I don't have to call you by your first name."

"Friends call each other by their first names." She argued.

"Who said we were friends?"

The Chief crossed her arms playfully, "What does Liara see in you?"

"That was low." Shepard laughed, "Back to my earlier question: how is Fox? I'm afraid his little incident might have alienated him from the rest of the crew."

"Of course, it did. He was the new kid on the block." Ashley looked seriously at the Commander, "Now he's the _stupid _new kid on the block." The Chief shrugged her shoulders dubiously, "He's got the makings of a good marine. He just needs more time to fit in."

"He's a little quiet." Shepard remarked.

"_You're_ a little quiet." Ashley picked up another rifle, and began to disassemble it.

Shepard paused, looking sincerely curious, "_You_ think so." She grinned and added airily, "I don't think so. If charm had a face, it'd be me."

It was Ashley's turn to roll her eyes, and she replied with a certain ambiguity, "Sure, you are."

Shepard wondered at her expression; the tips of her fingers were still black with soot and she tried to wipe it off with a rag on the worktable, but when she inspected her finger again, it was as black as ever.

The Chief sighed, and Shepard could tell from the way her shoulders stood rigid and her lips were pursed that the subject of their conversation had suddenly gotten serious. It was no longer the fun banter shared between friends, or even soldiers.

"You got to do, what you got to do." Ashley recited an age-old phrase, while her hands deftly unlocked the barrel from the rifle. She peered into it with one eye closed. "I have a work-face and fun-face. But, Commander, you only have a work-face."

She had put it in the same way a kid might have, but it rang so much more true. It didn't matter that Shepard had awkwardly drank herself into spilling some of the beans earlier that week; she still kept so much more secret. Shepard guessed, that must be why she found it so hard to _talk_ at all. She had not always been like that.

"No offense." Ashley laughed, albeit a little nervously, "As I said, we all do it."

Her arms crossed, but she wasn't insulted. Shepard thought about Jim Farrell, and tried to remember what it felt like to have a fun-face.

"I'm a private person." Shepard said quietly perplexed, "But, I see what you mean."

"It doesn't seem like you do." Ashley replied kindly.

"I might be misunderstanding you just a little." Shepard admitted.

She laid down the rifle barrel she had been examining, and turned to face the Commander. Like a practiced speech she had given to a class of socially inept killers, she started out with quiet bravado just underneath the surface of her nearly patronizing stare. "I don't like to judge people, Commander, but you're my friend. I'm going to put my two cents in to _help_. I understand how it feels to lose everyone in five minutes, and you don't just walk away from it. Everyone's got their own way of dealing with it, but clamping up about it and pretending like it doesn't matter—" She paused to look at Shepard sympathetically, "Will only make it worse."

Throat dry, green eyes focused anywhere but where the guilt stared her in the face; fifty marines in a little less than an hour. She'd been normal just a minute ago – the joking and the chit-chat – but now she felt the dark gnawing depression hanging over her head, like murderous thoughts in a comic. She kept it off her face, a beaten and battered red-haired kid, under a mask of a steely-eyed woman in charge.

"I have my sisters." Ashley confessed, "Who do you have?"

Questions that hang in the air unanswered have a tendency to grow like a bulbous bubble of awkward silence that stings of anxiety. Leave it hanging too long, and the bubble threatens to burst.

"A psychiatrist." It was a joke. Her game failed; her steady voice the epitome of absolute silence. She didn't know why, but suddenly the dark jaw's clamped down on her, and she felt more depressed than ever.

Ashley smiled; sad, but understanding.

Shepard grinned, "Charm, _see_?" Hot sand in her face, her boot heels digging deep, her ragged breathing — a steady beat she could play an unforgettable tune to. Her feet backed away from the Chief, her face apologetic, "I'm going to go over some reports."

"Talk to you later then, Commander." Ashley said formally. She turned back to her work, picking up the rifle barrel and peering into it with one eye closed, but Shepard knew better.

As she walked away, she could feel a pair of eyes boring into her back.

* * *

Computer screens and the white light it cast across the room; the shadows that danced dimly on her wall. Shepard sat at her desk, a glass of warm water in her hand, and a pile of reports sat ignored in a corner. She played with the idea of sending a message to Doctor T'soni that would be read by two or three prying eyes and the entire Alliance brass. She was sure she could be vague enough to throw suspicion off, but she wasn't confident in Liara T'soni's understanding. She'd just fixed that — sort of.

She'd write a letter asking her how her research was going, how she was enjoying her time, or maybe throw in a reason for the message in the first place: asking her to join the mission, provide insight, make a suggestion. In the end, it all came down to what she was trying to avoid — send a letter, break her heart; don't send a letter, break her heart.

She leaned back. Send a letter, and ruin her reputation over a relationship she wasn't even so sure of yet. She'd spent her entire life, suffered the deaths of friends – so much on the line already, versus something that had started just a few weeks before.

She asked herself, _Was it even worth it?_

She stared at her computer, and it stared right back – she imagined it had a bemused look on its face, daring her. She leaned in, her hands held over the keyboard, and she began to type:

_Hello, _

_This is Commander Shepard. I'm sure you knew that already by looking at the address. How are you? I hope you're doing well. Your research was very interesting the last time we talked. How's that going for you? Good? I hope so. I really enjoyed that tea – what was it?_

_Your friend,_

_Shepard_

She grimaced, and jammed down on the backspace button. Once she was done, she looked up to see where she was at, but all that was left was "_Hello"_.

She typed with fingers that felt like lead:

_Hello,_

_Liara, I miss you._

_Your friend,_

_Shepard_

She looked at the words, and smiled to herself. It was so strange hearing those words coming from her mouth. She'd never use vocabulary like that around her father, and he hadn't to her either – at least, not in so many words. They were a strange pair, Jane and Jack Shepard. They played _Battleship_ on Friday nights, watched _Rambo_ on Saturdays, and frequented a diner that played just the right music. Over a steak and fries, while _Small Town _by John Mellencamp played on the jukebox, the mood was set for a deep conversation between father and daughter.

"_Your information on the Fleet came in today._" Her father said.

He wasn't supposed to have seen that. On their summer drives to the cabin and the lake, he had made it all too clear that he thought his family's service to the galaxy was done with. He had given enough, and it was time to leave it alone.

"_I just wanted to keep my options open." _She remembered saying.

The look he gave her, something between an empty street and a cemetery on a rainy day. _"I can't tell you how to run your life, Jane." _

"_I know, dad." _She watched him play with his fries idly.

"_It's not what you think it is, Jane." _He said, _"It's an adventure, yes. You get to see the beauty of the solar system, and the different species around the galaxy. Aliens, Jane._" He grinned at something he suddenly remembered, _"Aliens are a different breed, Jane. You'll get to see that all."_

"_I know, dad." _She took a bite of her steak, _"That's why I want to go."_

He looked at her with an expression she had never seen on his face before. It was hard to discern, but there was a noticeable difference from his normal countenance. The kind man that never said _I love you_ looked like a statue carved out of stone. _"You'll see things you won't understand."_

"_I know." _But she didn't. What was in the media, no matter how much it was lauded as "realistic" and so-on, didn't even compare.

It was obvious from the way he fiddled with the straw in his coke that he was struggling with how to put it. Finally, he said to her, _"It's different for everyone."_

She frowned, _"Are you talking about mom?"_

His head titled to the side, _"Sort of."_

"_I don't plan on getting married for a long long time, dad." _She rolled her eyes at him like a teenager would.

"_You never know." _He smiled in good nature, but his face reverted back to the expression that confused her. _"Think about this seriously, Jane. It's your life you're playing with, not a game." _

"_Dad."_ She threw a fry at him and grinned, _"I'll still go to college. It's only five years."_

He smiled at her. The same smile on his face when he waved her goodbye at the station, hand in the air in a picture perfect moment of a happy father. Standing there in his brown leather jacket, his aviator sunglasses dangling from his pocket, and his hair a wavy mess. There were wrinkles around his eyes, where the smile met his eyelids.

"_We'll go fishing,"_ He called to her, _"When you come home on shore leave!"_

She had hated fishing. Sitting there, doing nothing, but watching the water ripple occasionally. She smiled and waved anyway. It was a promise, and how she wished she could go back. The shuttle doors closed, and the last thing she saw was her father, standing serenely in front of his red truck and smiling softly. That was the last she saw of him.

A chill ran down her spine.

_Commander Shepard._ Joker's voice interrupted her thoughts. _There's a message for you in the communications room._

* * *

She walked into the communications room. There was already an image of the handsome Staff Commander Jerome Harding projected on screen. He stood with his hands behind his back, chin at an upward angle, and eyes downcast.

"Joker," She said, "I'm here. Play the message."

_Aye aye, Commander. Just a little warning, ma'am, it came in a little hazy._

The recorded message began to play. Jerome Harding looked up and smiled.

He said,_ The Juno's wiring has shorted out and [unintelligible]. It's caused a few systems to go down. Luckily, we've repaired enough of the damage to restore flight controls. We will be heading to the Helyme – there is a research station there operated by the Alliance. Should let you know, strange [unintelligible] affecting [unintelligible]. Power to the device [unintelligible] until we can figure out what is going on with my ship. I'm sending this – _the message jumped erratically between his image and static – _Good hunting. Juno, out. _

"Is there anymore, Joker?" Shepard asked.

_No, Commander. _He replied, _That was the entire message. It was sent to multiple address': the Gold and the Utah have both received the same thing. _

She stared at the empty space on the wall where the image of Jerome Harding had been.

"Something's wrong." Wrex growled behind her.

"I see you've grown a penchant for eavesdropping." Shepard said wryly over her shoulder.

Wrex ignored her, "Something doesn't feel right." He moved to stand beside Shepard, his quirky eye making its crazy rounds.

It _was_ very odd. She knew the SSV Juno was old, but it had gone through the same preventive maintenance checks the Normandy had prior to departure. It was unlikely the technicians on the Citadel had missed something so severe that it would seriously cripple an entire ship. Something had to have gone terribly wrong, and the cryptic message didn't help to ease her worries.

"Thinking what I'm thinking?" Shepard asked Wrex.

He nodded his huge head once, "I am."

"Joker," Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, a sudden headache creeping from somewhere between her eyes, "Set a course for the Juno, and wake Pressly and the others – tell them to meet me here."

_Yes, Commander._ Joker responded, sounding just a little apprehensive.

"I'm looking forward to this battle, Shepard." Wrex almost preened.

She grinned, though it fell off her face as quickly as it appeared. "We don't know that yet." She reminded him.

"Most likely." He countered.

"Maybe." She replied.

Wrex sat at one of the chairs that circled the room and crossed his arms smugly, "I think it's a trap. It's what I would do." Leaning back, he fixed his shaky gaze on her, "Humans have a tendency to run into fires for each other despite the burn."

"You're right." She leaned against the projectors control panel, "Kind of a let-down when it doesn't really work out for us." She laughed at her own cynicism.

"What's so funny about that?" The Krogan shook his head, "You're walking into a trap willingly."

"_If _it is a trap, and _if _the geth are waiting for us—" She looked away at the gray-paneled walls that were ugly as sin, "We can't just leave them there."

"A Krogan would be expected to fight to the death," He replied, "That way, they die with honor. Otherwise, they would just be luring comrades into the same fate." He growled, "Dishonorable."

Sergeant Jack Farrell's face was talking to her, a memory from too long ago. He was telling her that chow was ready, and that he'd take her guard shift on the perimeter so she could get some grub. She told him to go first, after all, she was already standing there on shift and had found a nice spot next to a column she leaned against comfortably.

_Rock-paper-scissors. _He challenged her, _Winner gets to choose who goes first._

She held up her own fist. She won the first round.

_Best out of three._ He said quickly.

She won the second round, and he went off to chow with a smile on his face.

He told her over his shoulder as he walked away. _I'll be right back, Shepard._

The next thing she knew, she heard the sound of gunfire and the sound of a commotion from the camp. She turned around and saw the orange glow of the floodlights that she had helped set up earlier. They were knocked down one by one, as a cloud of gray dust trailed through on a rampage. Her earpiece lit up like someone on vicodin, and she could only make out the one voice she'd recognize through the pumping bass of a crowded bar.

_We're under attack, _She heard her friend say, _Get to solid ground – get off the dirt!_

A scared voice that could have been anyone's replied incredulously. _Solid ground? Where? Run – get out of here!_

She ran towards the camp while marines were running away from it. Their pale faces drenched in sweat and blood didn't deter her. She ran all the way into the middle of camp, and looked around quickly scanning for Sergeant Jim Farrell. She saw him just in time to see a burst of dirt explode upwards from beneath his feet.

She wasn't even sure if he had seen her, her rifle raised and running towards him. She never knew if he was still alive, when his body buckled in as it was yanked into a hole in the ground too small for a grown man's body. She turned, and she ran far from the creatures gnawing at her heels.

"We're different." She said flatly, just as the rest of her team walked into the room.

"Obviously." Wrex growled, and then sat in silence.

Ashley Williams nodded curtly to the Commander before she sat, Tali was busily checking her omni-tool, and Pressly saluted.

"Please, have a seat." Shepard returned his salute, and waited for everyone to settle in before she began to talk. "I just received word from the Juno: they're stranded, orbiting the planet of Helyme. As I understand it, there's nothing for light-years, except an Alliance research facility on the planet's surface." She paced in front of them, the thoughts just as jumbled in her head as she suspected she sounded, "Best case scenario: the Juno's an old piece of shit, and we'll help with repairs. Worst case scenario: the geth are on Helyme."

"There isn't a mass relay in the area. We won't have to use the device, but that also means we're going in alone until help arrives." She continued, taking into account the way their eyes dulled just ever so slightly.

"Plan?" Ashley asked.

Shepard nodded, "Worst case scenario: you'll take Wrex and a marine with you to the research facility. Investigate, and secure the area. Tali will come with me, along with a team of engineers to secure the Juno. The Normandy will provide over-watch." She shrugged, "Until we get a clearer picture of what's actually going on, we're going to go in there locked and loaded. It's always easier taking your armor off than trying to put it on in the middle of a firefight." A nagging at her gut beckoned the words to rise out of her mouth, and not without thought, she added, "Be prepared for anything."

"What if the geth are just sitting there?" Pressly asked, "One frigate against an entire fleet of whatever size?"

"We'll have to take that chance." Shepard replied, "If the Juno is still there, we can't wait for the rest of the fleet. Every minute could mean human lives."

Wrex fixed his stare on her, "It could mean more if you're wrong."

Shepard wanted to say, _We didn't get into this business to die old_. Thinking that sounded way too negative, she said instead, "We're going to stick to standard procedure: we'll use our long-range sensors to scan the area before we get within weapons range. Once we have a better idea of what we're up against, we'll make the decision to move forward or wait then. Right now, just be prepared."

"Aye aye, ma'am." Ashley acknowledged, "You should consider taking a marine with you. Who knows what happened to the Juno...in the worst case scenario."

It was both satisfying and chilling to know that the others agreed with her gut feeling. She wasn't the only one treating the "worst case scenario" as reality.

"I'll take that under consideration." Shepard said, "Joker, ETA."

_A little under forty-five minutes, Commander. _Joker responded.

"Please inform the Alliance of the situation." She ordered, "Have you received word from the Gold or the Utah?"

_Yes, Commander. They're en route to the Juno's location as well, but it's going to take them forever and minute to get there. About an hour and ten minutes to be exact._

"Good to know, Joker." She turned her attention to her present crew, sitting in their chairs apprehensively, "I would take this time to get ready. Brief the rest of the crew of the situation."

They all stood, cracking their fingers and looking around at each other like it was the last time. Without a word to her or each other, they left in a single file line out the door and out of sight.

_Commander, we have the green light. The Alliance want a report as soon as possible._

"Thank you, Joker. That'll be all."

She sank into on the chairs, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. They'd be alone for twenty-five minutes, a lifetime when hot metal punched into your gut and bodies were hurled around like pinball's.

Firemen ran into burning buildings.

Cops ran down dark alleys.

Soldiers ran where they had to.

Commander Jane Shepard sat there counting the seconds as they ticked by in her head.

* * *

_Please review. Thanks._


	5. Brightly Burning Blaze

_Author's Note: I took a lot of creative liberties. Don't be jelly of my liberty taking. And this is a fan fiction website, it goes without saying that I'm effing poor. I don't have a beta either, so don't be jelly of my not having a beta._

* * *

**Chapter 5: Brightly Burning Blaze**

She opened her eyes to a wicked sight.

Computer screens lay shattered across the floor, mixed with bits of human and bits of stuff she had no idea where they had come from. Thick electrical wires hung down from above like the claws of an ugly monster, reaching down at her to tear her to pieces, showering her with bright yellow embers. The Normandy was breaking, her hull shredded, her veins mangled, dead but for the little humans that could have been mistaken for desperate ants squirming for air inside of her.

Commander Jane Shepard opened her eyes to this wicked sight. It took her several seconds, where she couldn't hear anything but her own shallow breathing, before she painstakingly lifted her head despite the dull ache she felt where her neck met her shoulders. She was lying on her back on the floor of what had been the CIC. The galaxy map flickered on and off beside her, an empty rifle next to one of her motionless hands. She tasted blood – a steady stream from somewhere under her helmet.

_You need to get up._

She groaned, a sudden pain stabbing her in the ribs as she struggled to her knees and then to her feet. One knee gave away, and she fell down on it hard. A scream might have escaped her, but she didn't notice anything past the blinding white light that crossed everything out – the ship in it's glorious destruction, the dead frozen in their last moments of dumb surprise when a piece of metal the size of a little nail went and gutted them. For a moment, where the pain was so intense it vanished completely, she wondered what she could have done differently, if only to see Liara one last time –

* * *

Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams called for covering fire. Two marines ducked out from behind a pair of stacked crates, fingers hard on the trigger, and sent lead into the hole crawling with geth soldiers trying their hardest to clear the funnel. She almost felt sorry when she threw a high-explosive grenade into their midst, jumped behind a steel crate, and felt the flood of hot air as the explosion rocked the cargo bay. She cautioned a look around the corner of the crate, and saw that the grenade had done its job. The hooks used by the boarding ship had broken, and the ship itself was floating away serenely and leaving a trail of tittering robots in its wake.

"We're good. Get to the escape pods!" She ordered the marines still left alive.

They didn't need a second order. The ones on their knees hopped to their feet, the ones already on their feet bounced away before she had finished her sentence. She followed them up to the second deck, but as they veered off to the pods, she turned the other way. A stray marine stopped and looked back, calling after her in a preposterously clueless tone.

"Aren't you coming, Chief?" As if he were asking her to the beach for a tea party.

"Go." She said simply, and made her way up to the CIC.

The stairs had disintegrated into a chasm littered with body parts and pieces of seared wall that had been chipped off by bullets being shot from close range. She palmed the doors to the CIC open, and Ashley ran at a full sprint across the open expanse. A trail of enemy fire chased after her footsteps, missing her by a hair before she ducked behind the wall that shielded the doors of the communications room. Wrex was already there, stubbornly firing his rifle into the fray even when a bullet grazed the thick skin of his huge neck.

"Are you crazy?" She yelled at him over the din.

He finally spun around behind cover, calmly reloading his weapon as he did, and he looked at her as if he had never even see her before. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't know the answer to that question herself. All she knew was, she had to get to the Commander.

"Where's Shepard?" She never usually referred to the Commander so bluntly, but if Wrex was surprised, he didn't show it.

He merely pointed in the direction of the gunfire and the geth. "She's over there."

"Alone?" Ashley asked incredulously.

"No." Wrex said, and Ashley breathed a sigh of relief. "She's with Joker." Her face fell.

Ashley checked her ammo, she was full. "We have to go after her." She said to Wrex, who had once again bent his large frame out from the wall and began firing wildly. She dared a peek past her side of the wall, and saw to her horror that the geth numbers had doubled. A good portion was headed in their direction, and another seemed to be headed towards the cockpit where a wild ruckus was seemingly taking place. "Coming with?" She asked once she was safely behind cover again.

Wrex followed suit, reloading his weapon once again. His wild eye held steady for once while he made his decision. "Shepard ordered me to stay here." He said slowly, "But since when did I care. I go with you, Chief Williams."

Ashley never felt more at ease with something Wrex said. For today at least, she was glad orders were not being followed.

She braced herself for the sprint that would take her from cover to cover, having memorized the layout of the CIC from walking along it's utilitarian steel floors many times before. "I'll take point, and you–" She turned to make sure Wrex heard her, only to watch the big dumb alien lunge into a hail of bullets without her.

_You idiot!_

She threw herself into the foray after him. He was on the left, she was on the right. Together they began tagging geth soldiers like it was a competition, each an expert marksman. One was fueled by sheer adrenaline, and the other by sheer terror. Ashley didn't have time to think before she pulled the trigger, only enough time to react by instinct. Her body flowed smoothly, her mind surprisingly blank for a moment so intense, full of moving figures half-hidden behind objects they perfectly blended with, each with a deadly weapon in hand. It felt like a game, but she knew better.

"Area clear." She heard Wrex growl.

She hadn't realized she had stopped breathing at one point, and gasped for air. They had reached the cockpit, a jumbled mess of geth skeletons in their wake. Commander Shepard was standing next to an immobile Joker, who sat limply in the pilot's seat.

"I got my marines out of here." Ashley said hastily, "Cargo hold's secure."

The Commander's face was unreadable, but her voice was sharp.

"Since _you're _here instead of where I told you to be – get Joker to an escape pod." She said immediately to Ashley.

"I passed Tali on the way up here, she needs more time." Ashley blurted.

"No time."

"She says she can fix it."

"Oh yeah?" The Commander's voice, even with the bloody mess happening around them, sounded sarcastic, "She's got until you get Joker _and _her to the escape pod."

The Commander picked up the unconscious pilot by the armpits and deposited him like a rag doll into the Chief's arms. Ashley hadn't even had time to protest before the Commander shoved her in the direction she had just come from as a fresh wave of geth soldiers began to flood in through the Normandy's airlock doors. She didn't look back, just heard the rapid _tat-tat-tat _of gunfire and the high-pitched snap each bullet made as it collided with metal. Joker's head swayed back and forth all the way to the staircase leading down to the deck below, all the way to the opened electrical panel that Tali had been working at, and was still working at. The Quarian didn't even turn around when Ashley called to her.

"Come on."

"I need more time." She said, helmet flashing with every word.

Ashley wanted to give her all the time in the world. She wanted the Normandy to not fall apart around them, for the walls to be not pocketed with holes, and for the oxygen inside the walls to not be slowly seeping out. Orders were orders, and she would only go so far when it was lives ticking away and not just time.

She grasped a hold of the Quarian's forearm, and her attention. "We don't have anymore time."

Tali didn't reply, crouched there over the spilled guts of the Normandy. Ashley pulled her to her feet, and with one arm aching from carrying a fully grown man, and the other arm guiding a shell-shocked alien, she led them all the way to the escape pods, half of which were already gone. She sat the pilot in an empty seat, buckled him in, and hailed the Commander over her helmet mounted radio.

"Commander," She said breathlessly, "We made it to the escape pods."

"_Good."_ Came the reply through a haze of loud popping noises – they were still in the midst of a firefight, _"Get out of here, Williams."_

"I can launch the pod from the ship." She replied quickly. _I can fight too, _she was about to say before the Commander cut her off.

"_No."_ Ashley had only ever heard that urgent tone of voice once before, when Kaiden died. "_You will follow my orders, Chief Williams. You're making it a bad habit of disobeying them." _Though Ashley had done worse in her career, the statement somehow stung. _"Get in that pod, and go."_

"Yes, Commander." She said for the final time. She stepped into the pod, seated herself, and watched the doors of the small vessel close with a certain dread. She hoped she wouldn't remember this moment with regret in the future, but she knew that wasn't true. She would regret every breath.

The escape pod shot into space, away from the Normandy burning brightly.

* * *

Tali looked at the open panel in front of her. Every wire she could see was burnt or completely severed. Behind her, the door to the engineering bay opened.

"Tali." It was Chief Ashley Williams jogging towards her, sweat running down the sides of her face inside her helmet, "What are you still doing here? Didn't you hear the Commander's order for a general evacuation? You see the explosions? You enjoy being in this room way too much, my friend."

Still joking when everything was falling apart around them. Tali often didn't understand humans and their sometimes cynical sense of humor.

"Emergency power didn't kick in when it was supposed to. There's a break somewhere here. I just need to find it."

Ashley seemed to hesitate before grabbing a hold of Tali's arm. "Orders are orders. Now, come on."

"No!" Tali tore free of the marines grip, "I can do this – I just need a few more seconds to pinpoint the break in the connection. We can still win this! Now go!"

Two engineers with her, one limping about on a wounded leg, stared at Ashley expectantly. She stared back.

"You two get out of here." Tali told them while burying her head in a mass of wires and electronics.

The engineers looked a little abashed, but they dropped their tools and hurried out. Ashley stared after them, suddenly unsure of what to do. She could always force the alien to follow her to a pod, but if "a few more seconds" was all the difference between abandoning ship and victory...

"You got your few seconds, Tali." She told Tali.

"What about Commander Shepard?"

"I'll worry about her." Ashley said grimly, "I've got a problem in the cargo bay. I'll be back."

She heard Ashley Williams march out of the room, barking orders to marines in the escape pods to leave without her. Tali was alone. She knew she had exaggerated the truth – it would take a miracle to fix this in just a few more seconds. She remembered faintly hearing Adams talk about a problem set of connections in one of the panels, but for all the terror unfolding around her that could be stopped with that one fact, she couldn't remember which one of the hundreds of panels was the right one. If only Adams was here, but he was probably gone – one of the many chunks of gore littered about the floor around her. She began moving down the wall, opening one and then the other, hoping that she'd see the right bunch of wires frayed or cut apart – but she searched in vain. She felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes – she knew she was on the one to fix this, but she couldn't. She knew how, but she didn't know where.

She mused sadly out loud, "If only my father could see me now."

* * *

Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau was losing the Normandy, and there wasn't much he could do to stop it, like a husband holding the hand of his dying wife at a hospital, he watched her breath her last shallow breaths before the inevitable was surely to come. For the first time in a long time, his hands were held still over the controls of the ship – powerless, useless, completely beaten. The display in front of him shattered suddenly, and he ducked his head as bullets flew by overhead. His stomach tightened up into a sack of meat the size of a cotton ball, his hands on his head in a death grip.

He turned his head to look behind him. The Geth were standing there seemingly dumbfounded, held back by one lone figure running towards them from the opposite end of the CIC like a banshee. It was the Commander, her stride impossibly long, her eyes ablaze behind a bloodstained visor. Another bullet crashed into the ship's control panel behind him. One Geth soldier had turned it's attention back onto the pilot, while his fellows made a push towards the Commander. Blood boiling and nerves firing off warning signals at about a hundred miles an hour, Joker curled up as small as he could make himself in the pilot's seat. His legs were killing him.

"Joker," He heard the Commander yell in her scariest voice, "Take cover!"

_Oh no._ _She's not going to–_

The Commander wound up like a pitcher and threw a grenade into the thick of those Geth soldiers, detonating it mid-air just feet away from the pilot's chair, only a few plush cushions separating Joker from a blast that knocked the crowd of Geth into pieces. He slowly raised his head over the top of his chair, and saw the Commander walking towards him briskly. A single moving and dismembered Geth soldier laid among the remains of his comrades and stared strangely at Jeff Moreau. He felt a chill travel from the back of his head down towards the rest of his body as they shared a gaze that was horribly intimate. Joker watched the Commander, her attention nor her stride ever faltering, pull out her pistol and fire a single shot into the geth's lamp-like head as she passed it, causing it to explode like a piñata into thousands of small colorful fragments.

She ran the rest of the way up to him, standing there like an angel from God's army, with one hand gripping his forearm like a vice.

"Ouch." His mouth managed to say, though his mind still felt numb.

She lightened her grip, "Sorry. Are you alright?"

He nodded, "Commander, she's gone."

He watched her facial expression change from one of absolute confusion to understanding. No one knew how much he felt for the Normandy, nobody knew but the Commander. She gently, but urgently lifted him to his feet.

"We need to get you to the escape pods. I left Wrex by the comm room." She checked his helmet, made sure there were no leaks. "Can you get there on your own?" She was talking about his legs.

He nodded, "We're leaving the ship?" The idea seemed ridiculous. It was still in one piece... in general.

She looked at him strangely, "Yes." Her tone of voice offered no other alternative, but he wasn't convinced.

"There's no power." He tried in vain, "If we can get someone to the engineering deck, we can diagnose where the breaks are, fix it. We can-"

"Stop right there." Shepard interrupted. "You _are_ going to the escape pods."

"No!" Joker replied. "We can-"

Shepard interrupted him once again, only this time it was with a quick jab to his face with a gloved fist. She sighed, shaking her head at what she had just done, and was about to radio Wrex to move his heavy ass up to her when a fresh wave of Geth soldiers began to filter in. Dropping Joker back into his seat and quickly grabbing cover at a vantage point, she could keep the Geth pinned down within the airlock at this angle.

She was shooting into the mass of moving mechanical parts, heard Wrex do the same, when she thought she heard a third rifle join them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wrex and, with a tinge of irritation, Chief Williams fighting through the CIC towards her.

* * *

Doctor Chakwas tripped over the outstretched leg of a man sleeping in a chair, and nearly falling into the charred man being carried in by a pair of marines. She didn't recognize the man, naked but for a few pieces of dark clothing that had melted into his raw skin.

"Where do you want him, Doctor?" One of the marines, she recognized as PFC Fox, asked.

She waved at an empty bed still stained red from its previous occupier. She donned a new pair of gloves, and peered into the charred man's eyes. One was swollen shut, and the other was barely open. The one bloodshot eye peered into hers, silently pleading and praying.

"He looks..." Fox failed to finish his sentence, looking at the charred man like he was already dead. "What should I do?" He asked.

Doctor Chakwas stared at the young man, a mix of emotions ranging from annoyance to the same distress that Fox was feeling crowded her judgment. She didn't know what to say to him.

"Doctor." Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams placed one hand on the Doctor's shoulders, and turned her around so the marine could face her, "General evacuation. Get your wounded into the escape pods."

"What?" The Doctor asked. "What's going on?"

"You heard me." Ashley told her sternly, but not without some sympathy. "Power's out, hull's breached. We're running out of air." And the Chief said a little more quietly, "You're not going to be able to get everyone out. We don't have time. You're going to have to choose."

The words echoed in her head.

"I'll need help." She said slowly, barely a whisper.

"Fox." Ashley got the attention of the marine still standing dumbly over the charred man, "Help the doctor." Ashley also pointed to a second marine, "And you too."

"Roger that, Chief." The other marine nodded, obviously a veteran used to seeing the gore that came with the job.

Doctor Chakwas looked down the aisle at beds occupied by bodies – some writhing in agony, and some eerily still. There was the ache of urgency in her stomach, the tug of guilt in her chest, and when she moved it was with an invisible hand clutching at her ankle and begging for her to stop. She moved more out of instinct, jogging along the torn bodies, dipping her finger in a pool of their blood, and marking their foreheads while the two marines marched behind her and carried them away. The ones she didn't mark lay silently, and although many were already dead, she imagined their accusing eyes staring after her as she moved on.

She made it to where the burnt man lay silently. He was conscious now, his red eyes moving to and fro across her face. Her hand, finger poised, hesitated when he opened his mouth and tried to speak, but only blood boiled to his lips. His eyes rolled backwards into his skull, but he struggled to focus them back onto her. She knew he wanted to say his last words; a goodbye to his wife, encouragement for his children, a plead to save his life. She leaned in, her hand no longer held up, and her finger joined together with the others in a tight fist.

His voice cracked, but she could just barely make out his words.

"Power out. Ship defense system out." He said, taking long breaths between every other word, "Panel two-three. Emergency power. Tape. Understand?"

The burnt man's eyes rolled back once again, but they didn't return. He breathed one last breath, and exhaled it like a soft sigh. Doctor Chakwas turned around, numb from her toes up to her eyelids, and she saw PFC Fox standing behind her. He was just as pale.

"All of the others are at the escape pods, Doctor." He told her. He pointed at the burnt man, "What did he say?"

"Something about panel two-three. Emergency power. Tape?" She shook her head, "It's too late. Follow me."

Her steps were brisk when she walked out of the infirmary. She was glad to breath in the air of the corridor – just a little less fragrant with the smell of blood and guts and raw meat. Her feet took her straight to one of the escape pods occupied with her patients, there was a second being operated by the veteran marine. Doctor Chakwas assumed Private Fox was with him, she palmed the doors shut, and the escape pod shot off into space.

* * *

Engineer Adams surveyed the damage done by the first volley of geth missiles. The ships armor had done its job, and there was only surface damage. No leaks. The crew was probably just shaken from the blast.

"Alright, people!" He yelled over the commotion. Several of his engineering crew were knocked to the floor by the blast, there was cursing galore. "I want everyone back at their stations. That was just the first volley. I want power lines checked, systems checked – you know the drill. We can't lose anything!"

"Yes'_sir_!" They chorused, and bounced on their feet.

He stood by the engineer decks main console. Tali stood next to him, and was remarking on how well the Normandy had taken the hit when he was shoved backwards off his feet. Before he even fell to the ground, he knew it was a second hit. His mind worked on the double; the second volley had hit too soon after the first to be from the same enemy ship, there had to a be a second ship. His back touched the steel floors behind him, his spine felt the crush and the air was knocked out of his lungs. He lay there dazed for only seconds before he jumped to his feet, a single thought repeating over and over in his head: if there was a second ship, why not a third?

The odds were against the Normandy, and he didn't know by how much. He bent over his console, his crew doing the same at their stations, and tried not to think about the possibility that perhaps the Commander's luck had run out. That Joker's skill could not save them this time. That maybe the next order he gave to his crew would be the last.

"Damage report!" He demanded.

"Armor held up." An engineer grinned.

"Power's stable." Another reported.

"Weapons online." A third cheered.

He smiled, but just as the edges of his lips began to touch the bottoms of his eyes, he was once again thrown off his feet. Time seemed to slow for another dreadful thought to float to the surface of his mind: there _was _a third enemy ship. Only this time, there was no backbreaking fall to wait for. Engineer Adams felt the hot fire of an exploding HE armor-piercing missile engulf his whole body. He could smell his own flesh cooking, the hair on his head burning, and his eyeballs baking. When he did fall to the ground, he could hear the sizzle of his bare back on the hot steel floors. He could barely breath, the air in the room had suddenly disappeared, sucked out of the holes torn into the Normandy's side. There were dozens of them along the once beautiful walls of the engineering bay. His red eyes were transfixed on one in particular, a ginormous opening where the missile had clearly torn through before blowing up in their midst – a clean cylinder shape that seemed like it was made from a cookie cutter. He felt two strong arms lift him from behind, and carry him out of the room. In the corridor, he could breath again.

He was being dragged to the elevator. He noted with satisfaction that it was still running. Tali was inside, she seemed fine if not a little singed. She pressed a button, and the elevator began it's slow journey up to the second deck.

"How are you, Tali?" He wanted to say to her with a little smile and a chuckle, but all that came out of his mouth was a bit of his tongue.

"Shit." Someone remarked at the bloody piece of meat that tumbled down his chin and chest and finally rested on the floor of the elevator.

"Who else made it out?" Someone asked.

"Just us."

There was a sob.

"Holy Christ."

"Who is that?"

Adams felt the strong arms lifting him give a little shrug. "I don't know."

"Poor bastard."

Another sob.

"Are you alright?"

"Just my leg. Some shrapnel got me."

"We still have power?"

"The elevator's still running."

"The elevator runs on its own batteries in emergencies."

"Get him to the infirmary, and then meet me back here." Tali told them, taking charge. He felt a surge of pride in his bleeding chest. "We're going back down. The fight's not over."

"You got it."

"What about your leg?"

"I can handle it."

Adams heard the elevator hum to a halt, and the doors slide open. He was dragged out, this time a second pair of arms lifted his feet off the ground. He blinked, his eyes glazed over with a sort of film. He tried to raise his hand to his face, but his arm hung limply as if it wasn't even there. The arms that carried him placed him gently on a bed, and he heard their boots fall heavily on the tiled floors of the medical bay as they raced away. He wanted to thank them, but his throat burned.

He lay there looking up at the florescent lights above him – how they flickered on and off – and Doctor Chakwas' face loomed over him. The lines of her face were creased with stress, and the way she looked at him was anything but reassuring. There was a pain in his ears that grew steadily worse. The more painful it became, the less he could hear of the writhing bodies lying next to him, the blood-curdling screams, the moans. Soon, all he could hear was his own shaky breathing and the clicking sound his eyeballs made when he looked around. The pain ebbed away, but his hearing did not return. He tried to move, but his limbs refused. He realized that he may be dying. The thought wasn't as terrifying now that it was actually happening. He remembered trying to imagine how it be while he sat alone in the toilet with nothing to occupy his mind, and none of the scenarios matched this. He thought he'd say some glorious or meaningful last words, thought that he would cry from the sadness in it all, maybe even have a few close friends hold his hand when all life slipped away from him. There was none of that. Only the workings of his mind as he replayed his last moments in the engineering bay over and over again. Even now, when his life was ending, he could only think of that room and the upset state he had left it in.

Once again, Doctor Chakwas appeared over him. She held a blood-stained finger up in the air, as if it were a pen, and suddenly he understood. He tried to beckon her, but he couldn't will his fingers or hands to do anything. Simply breathing was becoming harder and harder to do as the seconds ticked by, and he felt exhausted – all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. Or die, whichever one came first. His mouth moved, trying to form words with lips that weren't there anymore. She leaned in closer.

"Power out. Ship defense system out." He struggled, sacrificing a breath of air for every word, "Panel two-three. Emergency power. Tape. Understand?"

She backed away from him, and he closed his eyes and sobbed.

* * *

Pressly darkly remembered the decision to jump into the fray. They peeled out of faster-than-light travel like a mustang around a tight corner, three dark purplish mass' hurtling towards them at breakneck speed. The CIC that had been quiet just seconds before burst into activity. Voices broke into a song of battle reports and technical readouts, feet scampered to and fro with headsets pressed into ears, eyes danced in their sockets to take in as much information that could be processed from the console screens. The only body that remained as composed as before stood at the helm silently behind Joker as he maneuvered the Normandy in acrobatic somersaults – Commander Shepard stared down the three enemy ships with an oddly expressionless gaze.

Volley after volley of enemy missiles were being fired in their direction. Pressly knew Joker was waiting to get in closer, he could see the pilot's fingers itching at the red trigger on the ships controls. He turned back to his console, seeing a group of four yellow blips churning towards the Normandy. Joker broke to the left. The four blips turned into eight, just a few meters separating them. The first volley clipped the Normandy's side – no damage. Pressly sighed with relief, but there was little time to celebrate – the second set of blips collided with the Normandy on his console. Only a fraction of a second later, Pressly felt the jolt of an explosion knock him from his seat. The scene of the CIC in disarray blinked in and out – panicked yells, barked orders, sounds of metallic scraping and hissing. He tried to get up, but a second explosion yanked him back down onto his side. He couldn't believe it, but the situation was what could be expected when the odds were three against one.

"Joker!" He heard the Commander.

"I got it!" He heard the Pilot retort.

The quiet click of the trigger being pressed, the muffled sound of the Normandy's weapons unleashing its payload of four laser guided armor-piercing missiles.

Pressly counted off in his head – _one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, four..._

"It's a hit!" Joker reported jubilantly.

"Break to the-" The Commander couldn't finish her sentence.

There was a third hit, and this time Pressly could feel the warheads barreling into the skin of the ship. After a mighty lurch, the Normandy drifted lifelessly forward, the hum of the engines dead silent, and the screens of the ships consoles shutting off with a final sigh.

"Pressly." The Commander helped him to his feet, "You're arm."

He looked down to see a bit of bone sticking out of his forearm. He couldn't believe it – he couldn't feel it at all.

"This isn't good." Joker reported. "Two of them heading our way. They're not firing."

The Commander's soft gaze hardened as she turned her gaze from Pressly's arm to the view port. She knew, just as he and Joker certainly knew, that the fight was about to get far too close for comfort.

"They're launching boarding parties." The Commander said. "Prepare to be boarded."

Joker relayed the message to the entire ship, paling ever so slightly as he did. An alarm blared loudly from one of the consoles – O2 levels were dropping steadily, power levels were woefully low. All around him, Pressly could see the crew members pulling on helmets, pulling pistols out of their holsters, sharing grim looks and last words of encouragement. The enemy boarding ships were on them now, he could see every detail on their dark purple hulls.

"The cargo bay." Joker reported, his console the only one still powered up.

He didn't have to report the second breach, as sound of screeching metal under a blow torch could be heard through the doors Normandy's airlock.

"Commander..." He began to say, but he was cut off.

He stood unsteadily, cradling his broken arm of shredded meat and brittle bone, and he closed the gap between him and the view port. Two monstrous geth battleships were holding pattern at a safe distance, observing the eventual takeover of the Normandy from afar. Commander Shepard stood next to him, watching them silently. But then a small gray speck darted towards one of the giant ships, one single speck that was so miniscule and insignificant in comparison, but it sped towards the battleship undaunted. Suicide.

It was the Juno.

"What are they doing?" Pressly wondered out loud in horror.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, the Commander was pale.

The Juno, in all its old glory, fire blazing from several holes punched into her hull, sped into the geth ship in a plume of color. Blue and purple haze blossomed magnificently from the point of impact – Pressly had never seen anything like it. The geth ship lumbered on its course, seemingly unharmed, but the crew of the Normandy watched as the gargantuan thing slowly began to sink – fire and light erupting from every crevice. Slowly, it began to fall apart on its way down towards the planet below.

Some of the crew cheered, but it was halfhearted. He watched the Commander carefully out of the corner of his eye, the color had gone from her cheeks, and the way her body hung – she looked exhausted.

"Pressly." She turned towards him, "Get to the infirmary."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded.

One last look around the cockpit. It felt wrong to leave now, though there was the selfish gratitude for being ordered to go. He wasn't the first one to the medical bay. On his arrival, he watched several others being carried in. Some were burned beyond recognition, others torn apart by bits of metal, and others already turning gray and rigid. He looked down at the little bit of broken bone that had cut its way out of his neatly pressed blue uniform – it began to sting a little, and he was sure that it would be hell in about a minute or so – but for now, he sat numbly to the side and allowed himself to be ignored by the medical staff.

"What's that sound?" He heard Doctor Chakwas ask an aide.

It was the rattle of gunfire. He realized he was still wearing his headset when he heard the voices of marines and static erupt into his ear.

"_They're everywhere!"_

"_Grenade!"_

"_I'm hit – get me a fucking medic!"_

"_Chief Williams." _The Commander's voice was the one calm voice of the bunch. "_Report."_

"_We've got a ton coming in from the cargo bay. We've got them pinned down for now." _Came the garbled reply.

"_Good. The Juno just took out the second geth ship. All the geth that's left down there with you is it – they'll be no more coming your way any time soon. I want you to close that hole, then get to a pod. I'm issuing a general evacuation. Clear out the medical bay. We're dead in the water. Copy?"_

"_Good copy."_

Pressly sighed. His arm began to ache sharply, the pain ebbed in and out of a bearable range. He sat there quietly with his back against the dull gray walls, his head leaning back ever so gently. He wondered why getting his arm nearly ripped off didn't hurt more, but he was glad it didn't for whatever reason. So blissfully grateful was he, that he didn't notice the beads of red blood dripping from his thoroughly stained dark blue uniform. His eyes blinked, each time a little slower to open again, when finally his eyelids stayed shut and he slumped backwards into his seat.

* * *

Commander Shepard stared at the handsome face of Staff Commander Jerome Harding. His stoney features were falling apart, his breathing ragged, and his lips trembling. By the navigation computers estimate, the Normandy was only minutes out. This was the last transmission.

_Three enemy ships; one in the atmosphere of the planet. We believe the facility is under attack. We've engaged the other two. We're outnumbered – can't last long. Requesting immediate assistance. Shepard, we can see you on our sensors – please, hurry!_

The image froze, and then reset as the message replayed itself. Her eyes never leaving his, Shepard let the transmission play itself out again and again and again.

* * *

Wrex told her not to blame herself. Strange words coming from him.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked her.

"I'm sure."

The boarding ship had fallen away, all the geth aboard that particular craft had been expended. Already they could see a second on its way, and a third headed towards the cargo hold. As tired and injected with adrenaline as she was, Commander Shepard knew they had little time. They rigged the outer airlock doors with all the Semtex and C4 they could muster – it wasn't enough to destroy the whole ship, but enough to constitute a parting gift to their attackers. She clipped the detonator on her belt, armed the explosives, and took one last look around her. The bodies, the debris, the general lack of life around her was something she'd never forget.

"To the escape pods?" Wrex asked.

Commander Shepard nodded. She reloaded her rifle, checked her ammo, and simultaneously moved towards the staircase. Wrex moved beside her, looking back every now and then to ensure that there weren't more geth lurking behind them with rifle barrels trained on their backs. They were halfway to the comm room, when he turned his head once again. This time his whole huge frame went rigid, and he managed to growl quickly, "Get down!" before a tremendous force thew them both to the floor. Wrex was on his feet in a matter of seconds, crouched and moving backwards, firing his rifle the direction of the airlock doors.

"Shepard!" He clapped a new heat sink into his rifle, "Get up! Can you hear me, get up!"

_You need to get up._

She lifted her head – a rocket flew by, exploded in the air between Wrex and herself, tossing the huge alien off his feet once again. Something cold hit her shoulder, leaked down her arm and collected in her glove. She heard the hiss of air escaping her punctured suit, and that feeling of urgency in her stomach doubled to outright fear and dread. She felt faint as the oxygen in her suit thinned, and she hardly noticed when suddenly her body lifted off the floor. Nor did she notice the geth soldiers spun into a confused mass as they took lost their footing on the deck of the Normandy. The last bit of power the Normandy had clung to was gone, and gone with it was gravity.

A geth pointed its rifle at her, steadying itself the best it could for a shot. She flinched, spotted her rifle floating out in front of her just within reach. She stretched out her uninjured arm, her fingers brushing up against the cool metal buttstock. She grabbed a hold of it, forced her finger onto the trigger, and saw the flash of a rifle.

The force of a bullet pushed her backwards towards the end of the CIC.

The geth flew back, its lamp-like head bursting.

Her back hit a wall. Through the haze she saw an army of geth pushing off the walls of the cockpit, the CIC, wherever they could get a foothold. They were making their way towards her.

"Wrex." She spoke into her radio. She hoped it still worked. "Get out of here."

She let go of her rifle, and held the detonator in her hand. A finger rested on the red trigger, and she waited.

* * *

Private Fox didn't know what he was doing, but he went ahead and made his way to the engineering deck. He tried to ignore the bodies floating about him, clinging to the walls hand holds as best he could, he found the open panels Tali had left behind. He spotted panel two-three beside two opened panels on the right, and three on the left. Tali had been so close, she had opened practically all the panels but the right one. He pulled himself towards it, one hand reaching out to grasp a handhold, and then the other. He pulled open the panel, and to his horror, watched as a mess of wires spilled out at him like dead snakes.

"Oh God." He whispered to himself.

He rummaged through them with one hand, the other grasping a hand hold firmly. All the while, he couldn't help but berate himself for not putting his ass in that escape pod, for coming out all the way over here just to die trying to put together a puzzle he could never possibly solve.

"Way to fucking go." He seethed. His fingers pulled apart a group of wires grouped together by black electrical tape – a temporary fix if he ever saw one. Barely able to keep the grin off his face, he isolated the group, and saw with some amount of trepidation that this could be the one – the "emergency power" the charred man had spoken of, the "break" in the chain that Tali had insisted was somewhere in this maze. He found it.

"Now what am I supposed to do?" He asked woefully.

Private Fox squeezed each wire, each one colored a different color, and he found one that was somewhat frayed and in a bad way compared with the rest. He wondered why the engineering team, the ones who managed to keep everything else about this place in tip-top shape, decided to use tape instead of replacing the thing. He maneuvered himself so that he could put his foot under the hand hold, and left his hands free. With one hand he held the frayed wire, and with the other he snipped one end with a multi-tool, and then snipped the other. He peeled back the blue plastic covering from the copper wire underneath, and he twisted the two exposed good ends of the wire together. He had never done this before, he hoped it would work.

"I hope this works." He said to himself, and watched the twisted wire in his hands expectantly. Nothing happened for what seemed like ages. He floated there, his face growing grave and then absolutely crestfallen with every second that ticked by.

Then there was a humming to be heard that wasn't there before. Then he realized he could hear, then he was falling – hitting the ground hard, then the engine glowed brilliantly blue, and then he looked up at it with tears in his eyes. Then a voice, a woman as calm as a cow grazing in green fields, said something that stole the smile from his lips, and the color from his skin.

_Emergency power: manual control not detected. Auto-pilot activated. Landing program initiated._

There was air – yes. There was gravity – yes. But he was painfully aware of the sound air makes when it escapes through tiny little gaps that were previously air tight – the very gaps in the armor-plating of the Normandy that allowed him to watch the planet below grow larger and larger. Frozen where he lay, he could only watch as the sides of the Normandy grew red with heat. He couldn't even scream.

* * *

Commander Shepard opened her eyes to a wicked sight.

A woman was speaking, but she couldn't hear a word. Stumbling on legs that felt paper thin, she knew of a safe haven. She should have ran; past the galaxy map, through the doors, down the stairs – there waited a craft made of air-tight steel and bolts. She tried to imagine seeing Liara again, how ridiculous she was, remembered how scared she had been to say three simple words, and how easy it would be now. She only wished she could.

Jack Shepard held her hand, helping her along her first steps; he waved, and the next time she saw him he could fit in the palm of her hand.

Liara blushed ever so softly; a clumsy slip of the tongue.

Jim Farrell sat next to her, humming a tune while they paid hardly any attention to the oily weapons they cleaned; he split his blood on her boot.

Liara kissed her so passionately; she loved her.

Commander Jane Shepard choked on the feelings that threatened to spill. She had hoped, like any other sane human being, that a happy ending awaited her, but she knew it wasn't the truth. No white picket fence, no little children, no sunny-side-up with two slices of bacon and toast on the side for her. She knew all this, because she had already known that the deep dark gnawing depression that clung to her like vines on a stone wall was from running away. She ran from her father, she ran from Jim Farrell, and she had taken a great wide stride away from Liara.

She wasn't going to run from this – the sound a bullet makes when it barely misses, the feeling of your heart in your throat when the fear takes hold, the uncontrollable tremble of your hands as you pull that trigger time and time again, the pleading and agonizing scream in her head begging her to just stop. How many times was she going to survive, when so many had died?

She still held the detonator in her hand, and squeezed the trigger. A bright flash blinded her. She felt suffocated.

A scaly hand snatched her out of the air as she hurtled away from the blast. A hand laid her down gently onto her back, a pair of dark fathomless eyes looked down at her. She was barely aware of the sudden quiet surrounding them. They were in the comm room. The walls shuddered and seemed to sway. Wrex was putting her into a chair, and buckling a harness around her.

"Shepard." Wrex grumbled, and he went on to say something she couldn't hear. Her eyes shut, and she didn't wake up for a long time.

* * *

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